Family, or something like it
by LadyZeia
Summary: [AU/Non-canon] The death of a loved one leaves Aerith searching for solace and escape...and finding something she'd thought she'd lost. For Sephiroth, recollections of the past bring complexity to the present and veil the future. Family ties may be the source of great comfort and strength…or the worst devastation. Language, adult situations, substance abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the work of SQUARE ENIX.

* * *

The wind scraped through stagnant pools of artificial light, pasting the black fabric of Aerith's skirt against her legs, sending a chill through her calves. She watched silent and numb as the pallbearers, with their white-gloved hands, reverently lowered the box of ashes into the ground. A bow of green ribbon, made from one of Elmyra's favorite dresses, wrapped the metal box—the only bit of color against pale granite and the sickly yellow light that filtered down from the plate above. Aerith would have preferred scattering the ashes of her adopted mother in the garden outside their home, or among the flowers in the church in Sector Five, but this had been decided a long time ago. The box containing Elmyra's remains fit snuggly next a matching one. Dust covered the faded service cap that rested on top of the second box; it had once been a vibrant cobalt blue. Aerith could picture the photograph that hung above the mantle at home—Elmyra radiant in a homemade white gown, Thomas handsome in his dress uniform with that very cap on his head.

The pallbearers bowed respectfully and waited. When Aerith nodded, they knelt and lifted the heavy granite slab into place, covering the grave. The etching had already been done. Alongside _Thomas Gainsborough, Beloved Husband,_ was _Elmyra Gainsborough,_ _Cherished Mother and Friend._ They had both died so young—Thomas in the war, Elmyra suddenly one day when she'd collapsed. Their ashes were committed to the ground while their spirits had returned to the Planet, scattering into the Lifestream that was the source and sustenance of all living things.

 _Don't cry. Someone you love has returned to the Planet._

She heard those words for the hollow ache they were as the wind razed the back of her neck, lifting the tiny hairs that refused to be tamed into her braid. The ribbon tied into her hair was black today. In nineteen years of life she had lost two fathers and two mothers. Granted, she had never met Thomas, her adopted mother's husband, but Elmyra had told enough stories over the years that she had eagerly awaited his return from the war. But that return had come in the form of a letter, hand delivered to their door by a young soldier, and a small parcel of personal effects. The body came later.

Their task complete, the pallbearers bowed again. This signaled the end of the ceremony and the mourners began to shift and drift away, murmuring. Aerith felt their eyes, but she didn't meet their gazes. A handful of people had come to pay their respects—older women from the neighborhood, shop owners from the places they'd frequented, a few of the veterans who had known Thomas and Elmyra years ago. Slum children watched the proceedings from the shadows of nearby buildings where they thought they were hidden. Actually hidden was at least one Turk—the cold and silent sentinels who watched her every move.

They all waited to see what she would do; if she would cry or break down sobbing. Many of them were genuinely concerned—they were good folk who had cared deeply for the Gainsboroughs. But their hesitant whispers and furtive glances only made her feel more alone.

 _Why am I still here?_

Aerith went forward and crouched, laying a bouquet of snow-white lilies tied with a silver ribbon on the grave. She was the last of her race, the Cetra—and a half-breed at that. Everyone she'd ever loved had returned to the Planet. _Why was I left behind?_

The graves of Elmyra and Thomas Gainsborough were surrounded by a sea of other plaques and monuments of various sizes. Several of the names were familiar. Many were scant of years—infants and children who had only seen the barest flicker of life. She had been here too many times, recently in particular. _I can't…take much more of this._ Life was always hard in the slums. So why did it have to get bleaker still? The gentle promise of eternity didn't alleviate the rawness of _right now_.

A thunder of rapid footfalls approached. "Aerith—" Zack stopped behind her, out of breath. "Sorry, I got here as soon as I could."

Aerith smoothed her black skirt against her knees as she straightened. The wind rustled her thin overcoat, sifting through her bangs as she turned to him.

Zack still wore his uniform—he must have come the instant his shift was over. The pale yellow light gleamed off his shoulder pauldrons and the sword strapped to his back. He was bent forward, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, looking at her with concern in his glowing, mako-blue eyes. He wore black boots and leather pants held up with suspenders. The insignia of SOLDIER marked the belt at his waist. A thick turtle-neck sweater covered his torso.

Aerith unconsciously touched her left forearm, just below the elbow. The sleeve of her coat was soft beneath her fingertips. Most of the time she didn't mind his SOLDIER uniform. Sometimes though, memories forced themselves into the forefront of her mind, bubbling up unwelcome from the deepest recesses of her psyche. White walls, locked doors, SOLDIERs in uniform with helmets covering their faces— Doctors…so many doctors.

She banished those thoughts with a blink, letting her hands fall back to her sides. "It's OK," she said, her voice sounding oddly normal even to her own ears. "You came. That's what's important."

Zack wrenched himself straight, a frown creasing his brow. Shards of spiked black hair fell across his forehead. "Aerith…"

She closed to his side, even managing a small smile. "I was going to head back. Will you walk me?"

His unnaturally blue eyes studied her face for a moment. Finally he nodded, his expression easing. "Yeah."

-x-

Aerith tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat as they walked, warding off the cold. Zack, despite his sleeveless attire, didn't seem at all perturbed by the chill. For awhile they were silent, making their way across dirt paths, skirting junkyards and potholes, staying on the edge of packs of workers hurrying between jobs and groups of school-aged children scavenging for things they could sell for their next meal.

Eventually, they turned from the main traffic areas, following paths where the lighting was sparser, often blinking in and out in disrepair. The cemetery wasn't far from her home, but it was safer not to walk alone. Thugs and creatures could be lurking in every shadow or around the next pile of debris. She couldn't always count on one of the ever-present Turks to be close enough to save her. But with Zack in tow, enemies and potential enemies kept their distance.

"Aerith." His voice, broken with grief, ended the silence, his footsteps coming to a halt behind her. "I'm sorry."

She slowed her steps, then stopped all together. "It isn't your fault, Zack." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I told you already."

Zack's face was clouded with guilt. "But if you hadn't come to meet me…"

Aerith turned to face him, shaking her head. "I'm not going to blame you, Zack." She wrapped her arms around herself, looking away. "The coroner said she was gone in an instant. Even if I'd been home…" But it would haunt her. Elmyra had gone to bed with a headache the night before her collapse, refusing Aerith's offer to help. In the morning she'd insisted she felt fine. Aerith hadn't questioned her. Occasional headaches were nothing unusual.

 _But I should've realized. That, this time, something was wrong._ Anguished sliced through the numbness she felt, gathering hot in her throat and stinging her eyes. _I'm sorry, Mom. I should've been able to save you._

Aerith closed her eyes tightly, squeezing herself as a tremor ran through her body.

"Aerith—" Zack's footsteps approached, covering the distance between them. His hands closed around her trembling shoulders as he moved to embrace her.

She flinched at the contact, his kindness threatening to shatter what little self-control she had left. She'd fall apart in his arms. _I can't._ Maybe that was what she needed—heaven knew she had counseled others in their grief so many times. Let it out—don't hold it all in. _But I can't, I can't—_

Aerith pulled away, liquid blurring her vision. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze; she didn't want to see the hurt that was surely etched into his face. "I'm sorry, Zack. I just—I can't. I need—I need some time."

His arms fell back to his sides. "…Sure. OK," he said eventually, his voice monotone.

He would think she did blame him. As much as she didn't want that, more words wouldn't help. _Please understand._ Aerith sniffed hard and turned, swiping tears away with her fingers.

They walked the rest of the way to her house without another word. Bits of dying sunlight shafted through cracks in the plate above, spilling into the flowerbeds of her garden. The lilies were beginning to wilt. Other flowers were just starting to bloom.

The doorstep of the modest home she'd shared with Elmyra was littered with small parcels. Meals, baked goods, a package of coffee—costly items for slum dwellers who lived paycheck to paycheck, barely making ends meet. She could put on a smile and thank them tomorrow—and she was grateful for their thoughtfulness—but like Zack's embrace, it only served to further splinter her fragile emotions.

Zack helped her carry the items into the kitchen, putting away what needed to be refrigerated or frozen. "You want anything to eat now?" he asked, putting the kettle on the stove while she hung up her coat.

Aerith shook her head, brushing errant strands of hair back from her face. She still couldn't look him in the eye. "I'll—I'll call you, OK?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice gentle. "Whenever you need me, I'll be here."

She closed her eyes, swallowing. "Thanks, Zack."

He left, closing the front door behind him.

Aerith exhaled raggedly, grateful to finally be alone—or as alone as she ever got. The Turks were still out there somewhere. She reached up, pulling the black ribbon from her hair, crushing it in her fingers as she looked around the room. There was a vase of dying flowers on the table—she'd forgotten about them. A stack of mail was growing on one chair—junk mail, condolences, bills. She glanced at the mantle, which was beginning to gather dust, and wished she hadn't. All of the photos were there—Elmyra and Thomas at their wedding, Elmyra and Thomas standing proudly in front of this very house…and so many pictures of her, growing up. In every single one of them, Aerith was smiling brightly for the camera. Elmyra had always teased her about being a ham whenever there was a lens pointed at her. Precious few photos actually had the two of them together.

Her knees buckled as emotion tore through her. _Mom._ Aerith sank down until she was sitting on the floorboards, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt as hot tears streaked down her face. _I miss you, Mom_. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—_

She covered her face with her fingers, shaking with sobs.

-x-

Exhausted and dehydrated, Aerith got up when the kettle whistled. She went through the motions mechanically and automatically—turning off the stove, bypassing the coffee for a satchel of herbal tea given the hour, opening the cupboard and grabbing two mugs. "Mom, do you—" She froze there, answered by silence and the hollow ache in her heart. Aerith replaced one of the mugs and closed the cupboard. She poured the tea and carried her cup to the table, sitting down with her back to the mantle.

Aerith began sifting through the mail. Junk ad, letter, card, water bill, junk ad, junk ad— She hadn't gotten far before the colors ran together, the text swam; frustrated, she gave the pile a shove, scattering half the stack to the floor. Why couldn't she get through even this simple task? Her limbs were tight with sudden anger, which frightened her. She never got angry. Righteously indignant, maybe, but never—

Leaving her steaming mug untouched, Aerith rose from the table and went upstairs. She let the shower water warm as she stripped off her clothes and unwound her braid. _I just need to calm down, get some sleep…_

She stood under the spray until the hot water ran out. Drying off, she refused to look at herself in the mirror above the sink. She didn't want to see that reddened, swollen face. Aerith toweled her body dry and dressed for bed in a soft, white nightgown, leaving her hair loose.

The door to Elmyra's room was shut and she left it that way. Her room was across the hall, at the top of the stairs. Aerith didn't bother with the lights. Artificial light streaked in through the one window, a sliver of it between drawn curtains—it was enough to find her bed by. She drew the covers back and laid down, staring at the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars glittered down at her, slightly faded by the years. But though she was desperately tired, sleep refused to come. Aerith was left in the company of her memories. She closed her eyes, tears leaking from the seams of her eyelids.

-x-

The Planet's screams woke her. Aerith bolted upright in bed, heart thudding in her chest, eyes burning from the lack of sleep. The ear-piercing shrieks tore through her, rising and falling in waves of anguish. She covered her ears with her hands, but of course that did nothing.

"What do you want?" She gripped fistfuls of hair, as if a bit of pain could lessen the cacophony assaulting her ears. "What is it?"

It was the same as it always was. The Planet was in pain. The ShinRa reactors, pumping mako from deep beneath the surface were sucking the Planet dry, bleeding its life source, its energy.

For once, Aerith did not care. "You think I don't know you're hurting? I know." A glance at the glowing red numerals on her bedside clock showed it was the middle of the night, only maybe an hour since she'd finally managed to fall asleep. "I _know._ "

She lurched out of bed, hands still locked over her ears. She stumbled down the stairs in her nightgown, gritting her teeth and barely opening her eyes as the onslaught continued. Dear _God_ , the screaming. Her foot slipped and she tumbled down onto the landing, midway down the staircase, pain radiating through her kneecaps. She stayed there, angry tears stinging her eyes. "Can't you just be quiet? You think you're the only one in pain? You took her!" Agony seared through her. "Why did you have to take her? Why couldn't you have left her here with me? I was already alone!" There were no other Cetra. She alone bore the burden of the Planet. "Why did you have to take her and leave me here?"

The Planet had something it wanted from her—something it wanted her to do. But she didn't care. Aerith rose on shaking legs, grabbing the banister in one hand as she made her way down to the main room. Still, the Planet's cries resonated within her, unending, unceasing, maddening. "Just stop. Just stop, already. I can't do this anymore!" Anger surged through her. The cup of tea, long gone cold, was still sitting on the table. On impulse, Aerith grabbed it, hurling it against the brick fireplace. "I don't care about your pain!" The mug shattered, splattering cold, amber liquid across the bricks, clay shards littering the floor. "Just leave me alone! For right now, just—"

Her head pounded. Aerith staggered into the kitchen, looking around blearily, wincing from the pain. What she wouldn't give for a _Sleep_ materia or _Silence._ But the only materia she had was that useless _Holy_ orb, locked away in a drawer in her bedroom dresser. Elmyra wasn't one to keep _Sleep_ potions around either. Aerith got out a stepstool and opened the cupboard above the fridge, where the medicine was kept. A _Remedy_ wouldn't work as well, but it would make her a little drowsy at least. Maybe a little numb, too.

As she was digging through the cabinet, her finger scraped a dusty bottle. Aerith blinked, looking at it, her forehead creased with the constant, jagged pain. The wine had been a gift, a few years back. But Elmyra, not being much for alcohol, had simply put the bottle away.

Aerith knew better. So many slum dwellers were alcoholics, recovering and relapsing in an endless cycle. _Never drink alone, don't keep alcohol in the house, call your accountability partner when you start to feel weak._ It had been so easy to say those words when she'd never been tempted that way. As if she'd always been better than them, spouting her matter-of-fact advice, as if pain and reality could be ignored so easily. Her mother died when she was five. Thomas' body had come home when she was seven. Elmyra, even in the midst of her own pain, had been there to hold her, to rock her, to kiss her forehead and say that things would be OK. They'd make it through this together.

Another jarring shriek of the Planet had her closing her fingers around that bottle. _Shut up._ She stepped down and grabbed another mug. _Just shut up and let me sleep._ The bottle had a twist-off cap, not a cork like those fancy imported brands people drank above the plate. Ruby liquid sloshed into the cup as she poured with shaking hands. _I don't care anymore_. She raised the mug to her lips and drank, the velvet wine coating her tongue, dribbling down her chin.

Halfway through that cupful, the Planet's screams subsided. Aerith slumped against the cluttered countertop, gasping for breath in the blessed reprieve. Her veins hummed with a pleasant, numbing warmth. When that cupful was empty, she didn't care about anything at all. Aerith left the wine on the counter, ignoring the shattered remnants of her teacup as she trudged back upstairs. She collapsed into bed, consciousness fading into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

A week passed in a blur. Some days she busied herself around the house, other days she did nothing. The bottle was almost empty, its contents long since bittered by exposure to the air, but she drank it anyway, blocking out the Planet's desperate cries. She began to feel antsy, on edge. Breathing the same stale air would do that, she supposed. But she couldn't make herself go out to tend the gardens. She needed a distraction.

Aerith flipped her phone open to text Zack, pushing away a plate of half-eaten food she had no appetite for. Everything tasted bland and dry, even her favorite things. She curled up in her chair, tucking her feet beneath her, still in her nightgown even though it was past noon.

 _Zack, it's me. I want to see you. Can you come tonight? I need to get out of the house for a bit._ She hit _send_ and closed the pearlescent pink phone, setting it on the surface of the table in front of her.

Even though she was staring right at it, she jumped when it buzzed not a minute later. Her heart pounded a rapid staccato in her chest. She was weirdly on edge.

She flicked open the phone.

 _Yes, I'll be there. Seven OK?_

 _Yes_ , she wrote back. _I'll be ready._

Aerith got up and cleared her dishes from the table. She'd cleaned up the shattered teacup a couple days ago. The kitchen was spotless. The mail had all been sorted, bills paid, though she couldn't bring herself to open the many cards of condolences people had sent.

She took a leisurely bath, washed her face, and put on makeup for the first time in days. With a towel wrapped around her torso, she contemplated her closet. She'd done wash on one of her fugue days, so everything was clean. In the back, with tags still attached, was a dress she had begged Elmyra to buy for her a year or so ago. They hadn't been able to afford it immediately, but she'd made enough extra money selling flowers to eventually purchase it. In her closet it had stayed, waiting for a special occasion that hadn't ever come.

Aerith shed her towel and pulled on the dress. It fit a tad loose—she must've lost a little weight over the last couple of weeks. Glossy red, it fell just past her knees, held up by thin straps over her shoulders. Elmyra hadn't liked the dress, actually. She had frowned her patented Mom-frown and said something like, " _You're not wearing that without a jacket_."

She'd comply, but only because it was cold out. Who'd care now if she went back to Zack's place at the end of the night, or brought him here to her room? It wasn't like the sanctity of her body meant anything in the grand scheme of things. It'd been pompous—high and mighty of her—to think otherwise. She wasn't better than the people she'd tried to help over the years.

From her vanity, Aerith plucked a broad gold bracelet, securing it around her left wrist, covering the faded tattoo on her skin just below the bone. _1378._ Her real mother, Ifalna, had had one, too— _512._ It was proof that Aerith hadn't really been her own from the beginning. Even now Turks watched her house, tapped her phone, tracked her movements.

Her eyes slid up from the bangle to a pattern of feathered scars, faded, paler flesh just below her elbow. They were very, very old. She never talked about them and Zack had only asked once. Since she didn't give him a real answer, he'd never asked again. They were precious, those scars—the marks of her and Ifalna's freedom from that godforsaken lab, of a kindness she kept secret and locked away. Though the horrors of that place were the most vivid, there were cherished moments, too—the only memories she had of her real mother, for one. Along with… She sighed a little and shook herself from her thoughts of the past, of a kind of family that was long gone, now.

Aerith brushed her hair but left it loose, a cascade of chestnut colored waves that framed her face and spilled across her shoulders. Her green eyes were a little bloodshot, but lined with kohl and mascara, no one would really notice. She pushed delicate drop earrings through her ears and donned a necklace Zack had given her once—a thin, gold chain with a small golden lily for a pendant, housing a tiny white stone at its center.

After slipping into sandals, she went downstairs. The window in the kitchen looked out over her garden, her flowers beginning to droop because of her negligence. The sun was setting above the plate, thin shafts of amber slicing between the dim pools of yellow light. She knew Zack lived in the ShinRa building like most SOLDIERs did. She wasn't particularly interested in going anywhere near the place where she'd been imprisoned for the first five years of her life, but it would be nice to see a sunset above the plate sometime, or to spend a lazy morning watching a sunrise.

At the first twinge of the Planet's cries, Aerith grabbed the bottle, pouring the dregs into a mug and gulping down the last of the vinegared wine. It only took a few moments on her empty stomach for the alcohol to work its magic, deadening her ears and loosening her limbs. The knock at the door came as she was washing the mug and setting it on the dishrack to dry.

She opened the door to find Zack waiting, still in his SOLDIER uniform, pauldrons and sword gleaming in the pale, diffuse light. His mako-blue eyes widened, his face slackening with shock as he looked at her, his gaze sliding from her face, down her body, to her feet.

"Aerith." He swallowed, his eyes snapping back up to her face. "When you said 'go out,' I thought you meant you wanted to hang out at the park or something."

Aerith shook her head, warmed by the wine, and leaned against him. She lifted herself onto her tiptoes so she could twine her arms around his neck. "No, I need a distraction. Can we go above the plate?"

His arms closed around her waist, drawing her against him. She felt him inhale. "Uh, sure. If that's what you want."

Aerith nodded, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as she angled her face up towards his. "That's what I want." She kissed him, a light pressure of lips, and felt him freeze up for a second before he began to respond, kissing her back.

"Aerith—" His pupils were slightly dilated when he broke away, breathing roughly and frowning. "Have you been drinking?"

"Just a sip," she said, shrugging in his arms. "The bottle would've gone to waste if I hadn't finished it off."

"Aerith…" His frown deepened, more worry than desire clouding his gaze.

She ducked her head against his throat, refusing to be deterred. "Zack, I just need some company, please?" She kissed the edge of his jaw, below his left ear. "Help me take my mind of things for awhile. Take me somewhere fun, OK?" She felt the tremor that ran through him, his arms twitching tighter around her before he firmly pushed her away.

Zack stood on her doorstep, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked anywhere but at her. "Alright. But wear a coat, OK?"


	2. Chapter 2

A forehead loudly hit the bar's surface next to Sephiroth, making the collection of glasses jump. One sparkling shot glass, fortunately empty, tumbled off the edge. Sephiroth caught it before it could fall far, juggling his own glass effortlessly in his other hand. He placed the offending glass upside-down on the mahogany bar top, waving off the bartender when the man headed their direction.

That handled, Sephiroth sat with his back to the counter, his loose hair trapped between the edge of the bar and the leather of his uniform coat, once more surveying the drunken rabble that was his off duty regiment. "You seem to have lost your drinking partner, Private."

Cloud Strife's groan was muffled by the wood, his spiky blond hair even more askew than normal. " _Women_ ," he said, his words slurring together. "—It's always the _women_." His uniform-clad form jerked in a hiccup.

Sephiroth arched a brow.

A melodic chuckle came from his other side. " _Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh._ " Genesis Rhapsodos had one elbow up on the bar, a glass of amber liquid dangling elegantly from his long fingers. His eyes glittered with amusement. "Shall I put you to bed, Cloud?"

Sephiroth batted away the leather-clad arm that reached across him. "Where's Zack, Genesis?"

The crimson-clad SOLDIER settled back on his barstool with a sigh, flicking an errant strand of scarlet hair from his eyes. "His lady called. He stepped out, you remember."

"That was hours ago."

Genesis gave him a coy look over the rim of his glass as he sipped. "Yes, indeed."

Sephiroth sighed his frustration, rather annoyed that Angeal had left him to manage the unruly pup on his own tonight. "We're due on assignment."

"In twelve hours, General," Genesis said, setting his now empty glass on the counter.

"Eight hours bottle to throttle," Cloud mumbled. "I'll be ready, sir." He abruptly started snoring, slumped on his barstool, one hand still curled around a half-full beer glass. It was a wonder the young infantryman didn't slither to the floor.

Sephiroth rubbed gloved fingers across his brow, trying to banish the ever-present frown. He couldn't blame his men for needing to let loose one last time before deployment. Where they were going there would be no bars, no alcohol, no women. This small establishment, one train stop away from the ShinRa building, was packed full of his SOLDIERs—largely men and the few hardened women who had managed to make names for themselves. The civilians were limited to the bartenders and waitresses—who were also ShinRa employees—and a dozen or so scantily-clad women who either preferred the company of ShinRa's elite SOLDIERs or were being compensated for their time. The controlled environment ensured a bare minimum of adult supervision.

"Speak of the devil," Genesis murmured.

Sephiroth followed the man's gaze. Zack had returned, entering the bar escorting a…frightened woodland creature, by the way she shied from the ruckus. She was wearing a hooded gray coat over a shimmering red dress. What was the boy thinking, bringing a girl here amidst frenzied, drunken men?

Zack pried her away from the gaggle of SOLDIERs at the door; they went to the far edge of the bar. The girl, her back to Sephiroth and Genesis, pushed her hood off her head and freed her hair—a glossy waterfall of silky, brown locks.

" _The goddess descends from the sky, wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting_." Genesis lifted a manicured brow as he sipped from his refilled glass. "She won't be getting out of here alive."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, knocking back an inch of his liquor in one swallow. "You're including yourself in that statement, aren't you? If not, you're the pot calling the kettle black."

Genesis smiled, leaning back against the bar with his elbows propped on its edge, unabashedly watching the young couple.

Zack had ordered and the bartender pushed two beers across the countertop. The young First Class SOLDIER clinked their glasses together and drank heartily while the girl sipped. She reeled back, a wince twisting her delicate features as she struggled to swallow.

Genesis covered his face with one hand. "Zack, have I taught you nothing?"

The ice shifted in Sephiroth's glass as he took another drink. "Is she even old enough to be in here?" He didn't need the unnecessary paperwork of having to explain how one of his SOLDIERs got a _minor_ drunk in a ShinRa-run establishment.

"She can't be younger than the dreamer here," Genesis said, nodding towards the still-snoring Cloud. A trail of drool was gathering adorably at the corner of the infantryman's mouth.

Back down the bar, Zack had obviously realized his mistake and seemed to be trying to negotiate getting her a different drink. The girl, however, shook her head and valiantly kept her glass, her throat working in forced gulps. Foul, carbonated swill; it wasn't Sephiroth's preference either. In his younger years, he'd consumed gallons of the stuff. But rank had its benefits.

A cadre of young male SOLDIERs crowded around the couple, laughing and cheering the girl on.

Sephiroth averted his attention. "Gen, regarding the troop distributions for the transports tomorrow—"

"— _Goddess_ , Seph. Must you?" The fiery-haired SOLDIER turned towards him and drained the rest of his glass in three long swallows. He placed the empty glass on the bar's surface and gestured for the bartender. "I haven't imbibed nearly enough to listen to you prattle on about work."

Sephiroth gave his friend a cool, unrepentant look. "You're commanding the first transport, squadron Alpha. I want you to particularly keep an eye on…"

-x-

Nearing last call, decorum always disintegrated and tonight was no exception. The music picked up, the alcohol flowed like water, and Sephiroth turned his back on the room as drunken SOLDIERs took to the tabletops, challenging each other to squat contests amidst catcalls and crass jokes. Cloud slept blissfully and obliviously through it all.

Genesis had taken to a detailed exposition of the third act of _Loveless_ , as he was wont to do when he'd had enough to drink. Sephiroth endured it, again wishing Angeal hadn't elected to spend the night _in_ , sleeping like normal people.

A squeal and a scatter of feminine laughter broke into their conversation, followed by loud whistles and men shouting encouragement. Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder, wondering at the disturbance.

Zack's guest was up on one of the tables in the center of the room, dancing between Zack and another SOLDIER. She had shed her jacket, her red dress glittering under the mood lighting that hung from the ceiling, much to the delight of the audience of panting men at her feet. In one hand, she clutched a half-full glass of some glowing emerald concoction, her other was flung into the air, waving in time with the pulsing beat of the music. She was laughing and stumbling about as she danced, kept upright by the press of the two men's bodies. Zack had a stupid grin on his face, his eyes nearly closed as his hands grazed the girl's waist. He was obviously off-his-feet drunk and Sephiroth was surprised the kid was standing at all. At any moment, the entire group would likely come crashing down into the waiting arms of the SOLDIERs gathered around the table.

Sephiroth made to turn back, not inebriated enough to enjoy his young charges' ridiculous debauchery, but the girl's face caught the light, framed by sweat-matted strands of glossy hair, and a wave of déjà vu left him cold. Those fairy-like features, that lithe frame— The resemblance wasn't perfect—her face was a little wider, her lips a little more bow-like, her hair lighter—but it was enough to interrupt the pattern of his breathing and throw his mind fifteen years into the past…

He didn't notice that Genesis had stopped talking until the crimson-haired SOLDIER leaned in close enough that his breath tickled the side of Sephiroth's throat. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sephiroth jerked away and straightened, turning back to the bar and his drink.

"Don't tell me that girl is your type," Genesis said, his voice a low purr. "I thought we established that the great General Sephiroth has no interest in women. Or men, for that matter."

Sephiroth didn't answer. He drank, letting the bitter liquid burn down his throat as images from a long time ago danced behind his eyes. The woman he'd first seen in Hojo's glass cage—thick chocolate-colored hair cascading down to her waist, a thin hospital gown covering her form, wires and tubes trailing from every limb…the squabbling infant that had been thrust into his lap, because he happened to be in the room while Hojo and all his assistants rushed around, mad with glee. It was the beginning of a five-year aberration in the clinical isolation of his childhood. The girl with the heart-shaped face, who he had last seen flitting about pixie-like and radiant with life despite the harsh circumstances, had grown up to very closely resemble her mother.

As the hollering sharply increased in volume, Genesis gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, if you won't play chaperone, Seph, I will. Clothes are about to start flying at any moment." He slipped off his stool, wading into the crowd.

Against his better judgment, Sephiroth glanced that direction. Indeed, the dance had become less that and more foreplay, with Zack's mouth sealed over the girl's as they swayed with an unsteady gyration of hips, Zack's hands clutching fistfuls of her dress and backside. The girl had one hand curled into Zack's hair, the other still grasping an empty glass. The second SOLDIER leered at them, obviously enjoying the show.

Genesis, with a matchless grace only he possessed, leapt onto the table with a flutter of his crimson leather coat and pried the hormonal youths apart. With a flick of his wrist, he flung Zack unceremoniously into the arms of his fellows, then swept the girl off her feet. She gave a slight yelp as Genesis rescued her.

In the next moment, Sephiroth found his friend and the girl in front of him, Genesis settling her gently onto her feet. She leaned against the SOLDIER, apparently not trusting her own balance, while her heavily-lidded green eyes roved about in a haze of confusion.

"Za—Zack?"

Genesis relieved her of the glass she was still clutching with whitened knuckles. "I'm certain he'll be along shortly. Assuming he can walk this far."

Sephiroth found his eyes dropping to her left wrist, to the golden bangle she wore, then sliding up to the jagged lines of paler flesh that marked her arm just below her elbow. He remembered the shattered glass that had injured her—injured them both. But he didn't have any scars—not from the broken glass or the decades of Hojo's needles and other 'treatments.' His body healed too fast and too perfectly to leave any marks.

He heard her inhale sharply and returned his gaze to her face, where her eyes had locked onto him, her mouth agape with some sort of recognition.

"Sephiroth…" she said, covering the scars on her arm with the shaking fingers of her other hand.

He did not let on that he knew her—after all, as the face of the ShinRa army, his countenance regularly graced all facets of the media. He'd never spoken to anyone about this girl and her mother.

In the next moment, she was coughing, turning green at the jawline and covering her mouth with desperate fingers as her eyes bulged in their sockets.

"Let's take care of _that_ elsewhere, shall we?" Genesis moved quickly, ushering the girl in the direction of the washroom while throwing a smirk back over his shoulder. "What a rise you get out of them, Seph. No wonder you're celibate."

Sephiroth let the jibe roll off his back as the two disappeared rapidly into the press of bodies. He drained the rest of his glass in silent contemplation. Beside him, Cloud mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, turning his face the other way. Sephiroth only knew that Zack had a girlfriend. He hadn't known her name or ever seen a picture—though, to be fair, he'd never asked. What his subordinates did with their off-hours was none of his business.

 _But I thought you would've stayed as far from ShinRa as possible._ That's what he'd told her to do, although she'd been five at the time, so if she didn't remember, it wasn't like he could blame her.

Zack lurched over then, stumbling about with his head down like he could pass out at any moment. "Where's…WHERE'S Aerith?" His voice staggered from a mumble to a shout and he winced, tugging on his own ear.

"Your lady-friend is ridding her innards of toxins in the fastest way possible," Sephiroth said, setting his glass down and folding his arms over his chest.

"Awww, fuck." Zack slumped against the bar in the spot Genesis had vacated, knocking over empty glasses and sending the barstool crashing to the floor. "Her mom is gonna—" He cut off abruptly, all the mirth draining from his face. "God- _damnit_ ," he muttered, slamming his face against the countertop.

Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair before he could repeat the motion, to avoid risking damage to the bar and an ill-timed concussion. "We're deploying in the morning, Zack. Don't maim yourself."

"Yeah, I know," Zack said, his words mumbled into the surface of the bar. "Don't remind me. It's not a good time. I can't just, like, sit this one out, can I?"

Sephiroth arched a brow. "You have your orders, SOLDIER. We're in the middle of a war."

"Yeah, yeah…" Zack jerked upright, wrenching free of Sephiroth's hold and brushing shards of hair away from the red welt forming on his forehead. "And Angeal would be babbling on and on about honor and duty if he were here. But there're more important things, aren't there?"

"Like what?"

"Like…I don't know. Family."

 _Sure, supposing you have one._ "Did something happen, Zack? Your parents live in Gongaga, don't they?"

Zack shook his head, grimacing and lowering his face more gently to the bar this time. "No, not mine."

Sephiroth frowned in confusion. He would've asked more, but Zack went limp, sliding towards the floor. Sephiroth caught the boy by one arm and got up, draping the young SOLDIER over his own barstool. Zack groaned a little and didn't move. Sighing, Sephiroth fished his phone out of his pocket just as Genesis returned, the girl clinging to his shoulder. She was breathing thickly, looking worn out and barely conscious.

"I believe the party's over for this little goddess," Genesis said.

"Make that both of them," Sephiroth said as he flicked through his contacts.

"Who are you calling?"

"Reinforcements."

Genesis smiled. "He's going to be livid."

Ignoring him, Sephiroth pressed the phone to his ear. He kept one hand on Zack's back to keep the kid from tumbling to the ground. The phone trilled three times—

" _Gaia_ , _WHAT_?!" Angeal's surly voice all but growled into the phone.

"Angeal, I wouldn't wake you if I didn't have a good reason," Sephiroth said.

"Out with it, Sephiroth. Your promotion won't stop me from kicking your ass, you know."

"I have a bit of a situation on my hands. I need you to take over. It's your pup's fault, so _you_ owe _me_ rather than the other way around."

"…Fine." Angeal's voice was gruff. There was a rustle of fabric and heavy footfalls on the other side of the phone. "Where are you?"

"The usual place."

"Still?! It's past— Oh, for the love of—"

"I'll see you when you get here." Sephiroth hung up.

Genesis was smirking. "Shame it wasn't a video chat."

Sephiroth just shook his head, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "Help me get these two out of here." He hefted Zack up by one arm, bracing the young SOLDIER against his shoulder.

"What about our other pretty charge?" Genesis asked, wrapping his arm around the girl's waist as he nodded towards Cloud.

"Angeal can take care of him." Sephiroth leaned back to address the bartender. "SOLDIER Hewley's on his way. He'll clean this up. If there are any problems in the meantime, the ShinRa Operator can reach me." He paused. "No more alcohol for them." He gestured towards the room with his free hand.

The bartender smiled with understanding and nodded. "Yes, sir."

He and Genesis picked their way through the crowd towards the front door. Genesis managed to gather the girl's coat on the way _and_ dress her in it by the time they spilled out into the chilly night. Sephiroth couldn't help but marvel at his friend's efficiency with her clothes; then again, Genesis was practiced. They recovered their swords—and Zack's—at the door.

Even in the dead of night, Midgar's streets glowed with neon below the dark, overcast sky. In the distance, pale green spotlights swung in arcs across the clouds, illuminating the airspace above the massive ShinRa building that stood center hub of the circular, eight-spoked city. Red lights blinked a steady cadence from the roof of the building and the shorter skyscrapers radiating outward from it, warning aircraft of obstacles.

A handful of his SOLDIERs had sought the fresh air to smoke or flirt with civilians in the shadow of the bar. Ever-present infantry patrols walked their routes in pairs, rifles in hand or slung across their backs, red lights glowing from the front of their helmets. Few other civilians milled about on this street; aside from the one bar overrun with SOLDIERs, there weren't many other establishments open this late—only a few food stands catering to late night office workers and blue collar workers employed by ShinRa.

A cab zipped up to the front of the bar before Sephiroth could hail one. The door opened and SOLDIER Angeal Hewley got out, pure murder etched into his chiseled face. He wore his black First Class uniform with his massive sword strapped to his back.

Angeal rolled his shoulders, his gaze flicking over the mostly unconscious bodies of his protégé and the girl. He let out a grunt of exasperation, rubbing a gloved hand over his face. "Alright. You want me to take that off your hands?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "No, I want you to take care of _that_." He nodded towards the bar.

Angeal exhaled. "Fine." He lowered his hand. "But tell Zack to report to me immediately the next time he's conscious." The large man stalked past Sephiroth towards the bar's entrance. The SOLDIERs who had been loitering outside immediately stamped out their cigarettes and straightened to attention.

"Of course." Sephiroth paused. "…Also, Private Strife's asleep at the bar. If you wouldn't mind handling him in particular."

Angeal waved a hand over his head in acknowledgement and pushed his way inside.

Sephiroth turned back to the waiting cab and Genesis. "Get in."

"You first. I want to watch."

Sephiroth sighed as he pushed Zack into the back seat.

Angeal's booming voice rattled the car windows. "SOLDIERs, this party is over! You have thirty seconds to clean up your messes and line up by squadron out in the street for inspection. Starting _now_!"

Genesis chuckled as he slid into the front seat of the car next to the driver, settling the girl on his lap. "ShinRa building, please."

"No," Sephiroth said, maneuvering his and Zack's swords into the car and closing the door behind him. "Give him the address for my building."

Genesis' questioning look was no more than a glance and then they were pulling away from the curb, neon lights streaking by beyond the cab's tinted windows.

-x-

They took the elevator to the thirtieth floor and Sephiroth swiped his keycard, letting them into his apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the main room let in the glowing cityscape, facing the raging aqua pyre of the Sector Seven mako reactor rather than the ShinRa building.

Sephiroth dumped Zack onto the nearer of two couches. The young SOLDIER stirred, mumbling a little, but didn't actually wake. "You can put her in the spare bedroom."

Genesis nodded. The girl was out cold now, draped limply over his leather-clad arms. He disappeared with her down the hall.

Sephiroth placed his sword in its stand near the door. Zack's he propped up against the wall. His small bag for the deployment was already packed, ready to go in the morning. He didn't relish whatever ordeal awaited come daylight, to get the girl back to her place. It was going to be early and soon, considering it was already very, very AM.

Soft footfalls approached from the hallway and stopped. Genesis' face was coldly sober as he pushed one ungloved hand through his hair. "Seph, come look at this."

Sephiroth followed his friend down the hall, past the bathroom and his office before turning into the spare bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room's sparse furnishings: a small bed and dresser, a nightstand, and a mostly empty bookshelf. The girl was curled on top of the covers where Genesis had left her, glossy hair fanned out beneath her, her breaths shallow and regular. Genesis had removed her coat and shoes. The gold bangle lay beside her naked wrist, atop the bedding.

Genesis perched on the bed beside her, dimpling the mattress, as he lifted and cradled her left hand between his own. "She's like us," he said quietly, turning the back of her wrist up to catch the light.

Sephiroth saw the numerals tattooed into her skin, but then, he'd seen them before.

Genesis pursed his lips, reading his face. "You knew." He smoothed her hand back into place at her side. "You know her. What project is she, Sephiroth? …Does Zack know?"

Sephiroth retreated from the doorway, unwilling to get into this conversation. "It was a long time ago." He went to the hall linen closet and pulled out an armful of blankets.

Genesis joined him a moment later. " _The wind sails over the water's surface. Quietly, but surely_." He paused. "Of course it was a long time ago. That's when it all happened. You made a point of bringing her here, rather than ShinRa." The crimson-haired SOLDIER folded his arms, lowering his voice. "What is she to you, Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth carried the blankets out to the main room, stacking the pile on the glass coffee table. "If you're going, go. If you're staying, you can sleep out here." He shook out the blanket from the top of the pile, tossing it over the slumbering Zack. "I'm going to bed."

Genesis gave him a cool look and turned away, facing the wall of windows as he began to strip off his armor.

Sephiroth headed down the hall to his bedroom, passing the spare bedroom on the way. Genesis had tucked the girl beneath the covers and turned off the light. He closed the door and moved on. His bedroom was at the end of the hall. The city glow seeping in through the single large window was more than enough—he didn't bother turning on any lights. Sephiroth worked the straps on his armor and the buckles on his coat. He draped his armor and leathers over the stand inside the door.

In the adjacent bath, he took a five minute shower and dried his hair. When he got out, he could hear the shower going in the hall bathroom as Genesis settled in. Donning a pair of loose-fitting cotton trousers, Sephiroth slid into bed, letting his eyes fall shut, closing out bookshelves full of strategy books by the greatest military minds, stacks of maps and data pads, walls of plaques and medals, boxes of random materia.

Zack's earlier words drifted into his mind. _There're more important things, aren't there? Family…_

The one and only time he had dared to think that way… Sephiroth exhaled and rolled over, turning his back on the window and the city's lights.

-x-

He woke not long after falling asleep, to the soft click of his bedroom door opening and to footfalls too light and hesitant to belong to either Genesis or Zack. Sephiroth traced her movements with his enhanced hearing, concealing his wakefulness—the unnatural mako glow of his eyes—behind closed eyelids. _Gaia_ , what was going on in her head?

She closed the door and abruptly tripped over his armor stand. Fortunately it didn't go flying and she managed to right herself with a breathy murmur. By that and the unsteady rhythm of her steps, he assumed she was still drunk.

Still, he waited. When she found the bed and the blanket shifted beneath her touch, that was when he twisted, reaching out and grasping the offending wrist, her frame captured between the pale light from his eyes and the glow of the city from the window behind her.

She gasped softly, stilling, her skin warm against his fingers. Coils of loose hair tumbled over her shoulders, her chest heaving beneath the bodice of her dress. Her emerald eyes had their own faint light to them, only further cementing the fact that she was, as Genesis had said, like them.

"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice cool. "Climbing into a SOLDIER's bed in the middle of the night?"

A tremor ran through her, though her eyes glared at him defiantly. "Do it if you want. I don't care. I don't care anymore." Her voice was still slurred by drink, strangely devoid of emotion.

Sephiroth exhaled. "What's gotten into you, Aerith?"

Her face softened into a pout, an expression she wore as easily at five years old as she wore now at—hmm—nineteen? "So you _do_ remember me." She planted one knee on the edge of the bed, pushing at his shoulder with the hand he hadn't captured. "Move over."

He didn't budge. "We're not children anymore, Aerith. This isn't you sneaking into my room while your mother is asleep next door. Don't think you still know me."

Her eyes glistened oddly, her voice dropping. "But we can pretend, can't we? Just this once." Her words had a desperation to them, an edge that had nothing to do with drink. Beads of liquid fell from her eyelashes, leaving shimmering streaks on either side of her face.

Her tears had always ruined him. It wasn't like he was unused to people crying. Over the years, he'd attended countless funerals and hospital bedsides, watched grown men fall apart on the battlefield. None of that ever affected him. But _her_ grief pulled him into the past, to the boy he'd been in a white room, sitting against the wall on a narrow cot, holding her tightly and keeping watch while she clutched his shirt in her tiny hands and sobbed.

Sephiroth sat up, the bedclothes falling to his waist. He loosened his hold on her wrist. "What happened? Your mother—"

Aerith's face creased with pain as she looked at him. "She's dead, didn't they tell you? It wasn't long after you helped us escaped. Only days, I think." Her lower lip trembled. "She fainted at the train station and then she was…gone."

Sephiroth drew an involuntary breath, a roaring sound filling his ears. No, they hadn't told him. They never told him anything. Hojo had beaten him and starved him for weeks to punish him for what he'd done. He'd endured every moment, because he knew— _knew—_ that Ifalna and her daughter were out there living happy lives far, far away from the grasp of ShinRa. Ifalna couldn't be dead. Not _her._ Even so many years later, his memories were vivid—

— _There you are, Sephy. I was waiting for you._ Her smile beamed at him as she opened her arms to embrace him, enfolding him in yards of fuchsia skirts, her purple shawl soft against his face. _How was school today?_

—Her astonished expression, her brow knit together over pale green eyes, soft dark curls of hair framing her face. _How did you manage to skin your knee in the simulation room?_

—Gentle fingers sliding down his cheek, her eyes sad. _My husband talked about you all the time. He loved you very much._

—The dark bruises, translucent skin…the bright red blood on her fingers when she coughed. _No, Seph, I'm fine. I'm not—_

When she'd gotten sick, he _knew_ it was Hojo doing it—his experiments. If he got her away from the labs, she would get better. She would be fine. Even though it meant he could never see her again. _What if I was wrong?_ What if escaping had done it? He'd only been a child back then, with a child's shortsightedness about the real world and what it meant to have enough to survive. _Was it my fault?_ Horror left his limbs rigid, coiling tight around his throat. _Did I send her to her death?_

"Sephiroth, you're hurting me. _Let go._ " Aerith squirmed beneath his grasp.

He opened his hand immediately, jerked back to the present, to the reality of the girl in his bedroom with reddening fingermarks on her wrist. "Sorry." He sucked air, flexing his fingers and calling on the nearest _Cure_ materia, in a chest on his bookshelf. The green tendrils of the spell flowed from his fingertips, coiling around her wrist. There was a soft flare of blue light and the marks faded.

Aerith rubbed her wrist. She sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window. "Thanks."

"Apologies." Sephiroth inhaled deeply, willing himself to calm. With a few disciplined breaths, he managed. He leaned against the headboard, shards of silver hair settling against his shoulders. But the question still burned in his chest. "Was it my fault, Aerith?"

She looked at him, her emerald eyes bright with sorrow, and shook her head. "She was sick. She died the same way all of my people died. I'll probably die that way too." Her expression clouded and she glanced away. "Maybe."

Sephiroth rubbed his brow with one hand, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. "I'm sorry, Aerith." He swallowed, a cold, numb feeling spreading through him. _Loss, grief, regret_ … "I wanted different lives for the two of you."

"I know." She inhaled deeply. "Actually, I had a really good life, all things considered. A really nice woman took me in. Elmyra." She smiled but her lips trembled. It seemed like she had to force the words out, her voice growing quieter and quieter. "Her husband was at the front lines in Wutai; she didn't have any children, so it was good. We had each other, you know?" Her voice broke softly as fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Even after he was killed in the war. But…" Aerith's shoulders slumped; she seemed to collapse in on herself. "She's gone too, now. Just…just two weeks ago. Suddenly."

The air slipped from his lungs. He felt like that boy again and this girl—Ifalna's daughter—was like his little sister, as if all the time and distance and tragedy that had separated them hadn't touched those old bonds. He reached forward without questioning the impulse, laying a gentle hand to her hair, just above her right ear. "Aerith, I'm sorry."

"Seph—" Her face crumpled as she turned and threw herself against him, sobbing into his chest and hair.

His arms encircled her slender shoulders, buried in the curtain of her chestnut locks, just like back then. Aerith used to cry often—every time Ifalna was taken to the labs, every time she came back too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed and lie there so, so still. He would hold Aerith and stroke her hair, assuring her that yes, her mother would come back, her mother would be fine. No, this wasn't the last time Aerith would see her. …Even though he'd never been sure.

Sephiroth held her shuddering frame, breathing in the scent of her that he'd never really forgotten. It made sense now, the things that Zack had said—about the deployment being ill-timed, about the importance of family. Zack, Genesis, Angeal—they all had real families they'd grown up with, real families they could complain about and go visit when they were guilted into it. For him and Aerith, family was an elusive treasure, ephemeral and vanishing, slipping through their fingers.

So when the nagging voice pressed in, reminding him what time it was, that Genesis and Zack were right outside, about his obligations and duties to ShinRa…he told that voice to go to hell and tightened his arms around her.

At length, she quieted, slumping against him with obvious fatigue, leaving his hair and skin damp with her tears.

Sephiroth threaded one hand into her hair, finger-combing from the nape of her neck down to the ends of her hair. He felt Aerith sigh against him, tension bleeding from her shoulders. It was the same trick he'd always used to calm her down. "That's why you were here, getting drunk and dancing on a table?"

She made a little mortified sound, her face tucked into the crook between his neck and shoulder. " _Gaia_ , did I really do that? Everything after the first few drinks was a blur."

"If it's any consolation, I'm certain Zack drank enough that he won't remember, either."

Her breath wafted over his collarbone as she exhaled. "Zack. I've been so mean to him. He's only been trying to help, but I just…I just couldn't. With him." She paused as if groping for words, but eventually gave up with a little shake of her head.

"He's dense, but he's not completely hopeless. He'll understand."

"Mm."

Their words faded into silence—a peaceful silence that he'd only known during shards of time with her and Ifalna. Practicing sword katas with his masamune blade had a similar effect, but that was a different kind of synergy of mind, body, and spirit. It wasn't the simple comfort of…of family.

Aerith's limbs grew weighty against him, the rhythm of her breathing becoming soft and regular. Sephiroth lifted his hands from her hair.

"Aerith…you're falling asleep."

"The Planet's quiet tonight," she said, her voice thick with fatigue. "Let me. I haven't really slept in days."

Sephiroth sighed, remembering how she used to say things like that all the time. _The Planet's sad today. The Planet's loud today. The Planet's not hurting so bad today._ He eased her down to the bed, cocooning her in a blanket and slipping a pillow beneath her head. When he laid down, she rolled into his warmth, resting her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling across his chest. "What are you going to say, come morning, when Zack and Genesis find you in bed with me?"

"Easy," she said and yawned. "I'll tell them you're my brother." She drifted off in the next instant, making soft sleep noises.

He gave up, tucking one arm around her blanket-wrapped form. After all, she'd always gotten her way. Sephiroth closed his eyes, letting himself pretend like she'd asked, just this once… Just this one time…


	3. Chapter 3

"Aerith, wake up."

She made a noise of protest, firmly ignoring her brother's voice. It was much, much too early to be awake. When his hand touched her shoulder, she rolled away, pulling her arm back into the cocoon of blankets.

Aerith heard him sigh. The mattress depressed beside her and a light flicked on.

She groaned, pressing her face into the pillow. "Go away. It's too early for school. I'm having a good dream."

"You must be," he said. There was a tug on the blankets and she was spiraling onto her back.

"Seph…" Aerith crinkled her nose and covered her eyes with one arm, shielding herself from the rudely invading light.

His shadow fell over her. "Do you really want me to wake you the way we used to do this?" Feathery lengths of silken hair pooled against her throat. "When you're dating my subordinate who happens to be sleeping just outside?" His hand touched her cheek, his thumb coming to rest gently against the corner of her mouth—a hand that didn't belong to a child. The deepness of his voice finally registered—

Aerith's eyes flew open, jerked from her reverie into reality. She wasn't a child anymore, playing princess and prince with the boy who was like an older brother to her. He wasn't that boy anymore, either.

Sephiroth's eyes danced with an impish amusement, though—that familiar way he had of smiling with his eyes instead of with his mouth. "That worked." His hand left her face as he straightened, leaning away from her.

So this wasn't a dream after all. Shock and a surge of self-consciousness left her heart thudding in her throat, her face feeling feverish. Clutching the blankets to her chest, she sat up quickly—too quickly. Her head throbbed with pain; she was a little dizzy, too. She loosed one hand to press against her left temple, as if that would stop the spinning. The memories came back to her in a slow haze—Zack, the bar filled with SOLDIERs, so many drinks. Her throat was sore—raw and bitter tasting; she had a vague recollection of someone holding her hair back while she heaved up her guts, telling her she'd be fine and whispering lines of poetry in a soothing, melodic voice.

But everything after that, crawling into bed with… She'd been certain that had only been an alcohol-induced hallucination, until now.

Sephiroth, shirtless and barefoot, was sitting on the edge of the bed, just beside her knees. He was all hard muscle and shifting planes of silver as his hair caught the light. No trace remained of the rail-thin boy he'd been at thirteen. He wore the leather pants that went with his uniform, a small white towel slung around his neck. The mako-green glow of his eyes was the same as she remembered from her childhood, though from a very different face.

She quickly found other things to look at, trying to get her bearings, to keep a sense of social panic at bay. The room itself was bathed in blue-grey hues from the ambient light from the window and the white glow from the bedside lamp. Out the window, the view was Midgar and sky. She stared at the water sheeting against the glass, the thick gray clouds hanging low, obscuring the tops of the buildings. It was as disorienting as it always was, the ceiling-less view above the plate. It was some hour of very early morning…and she was in the bedroom of General Sephiroth of the ShinRa Army, in his _bed_ , wearing just this flimsy dress… Aerith swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the blankets.

Sephiroth cocked a brow. " _Now_ you're shy? What happened to the girl who forced her way into my bed last night?"

Her face went from warm to boiling hot. Her voice, when she tried to speak, didn't really work. "I, uh… I can't, I don't quite—"

There was a trace of mirth in his eyes as he stood. He crossed the room, disappearing into a doorway behind the bookshelf, to the right of the window. A moment later he returned, sans towel and tossing a slim blue vial into her lap. "Drink that. For your head."

"Th-thanks."

Mercifully, he moved away, heading for the armor stand near the door that was draped with his battle coat.

She could finally breathe again. Aerith released her death grip on the blankets to uncap the _Remedy_. The cool liquid bathed her throat with relief as she drank it; the pounding of her head stopped immediately, a slight queasy feeling vanishing with it. Biting her lower lip gently, she recapped the empty vial. She paused, gathering her courage before speaking. "I only ever hoped I'd get to see you again."

He had his back to her as he pulled on his coat and freed his hair to hang like a long, silver waterfall down his back. "Well, you got your wish, little sister."

A wonderful feeling welled up inside her, warmth tightening her throat. _Seph…_ "Then it _was_ real. Everything we talked about last night—"

Footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the door.

"You have about two seconds to ready your explanation, Aerith."

Her eyes widened. "My…?"

The footsteps quickened to a run; the door burst open. "Sephiroth, the girl—"

Aerith blinked at the crimson-haired SOLDIER in the doorway who wore leathers and armor similar to Sephiroth's, but in fiery red. His hair fell in silky waves to frame his face, only slightly obscuring the mako-blue glow of his eyes. He had long, dark lashes and enviable red lips.

His face smoothed immediately upon seeing her. "Ah." The man's entire body seemed to smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms.

"Don't read anything into this, Genesis," Sephiroth said, as he secured his armor in place.

" _Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky_." Genesis smiled. "What is there to read?"

"Is Zack awake?" Sephiroth asked, perching on the edge of the bed as he pulled on socks and boots.

"Fortunately, no. Do you have anything stronger than a _Remedy_ , Seph? I don't think that will be enough cure his broken heart."

Sephiroth sighed. "I said—"

Aerith's mind sharpened with recognition. "You held my hair last night while I was sick."

Genesis pressed one gloved hand to his chest, the other sweeping outward as he bowed. "Genesis Rhapsodos, charmed and jealous."

She felt her cheeks warm again.

"We don't have a lot of time." Sephiroth got to his feet and headed for the door. He pushed past Genesis, his footsteps receding down the hall.

"Your things are next door," the crimson-haired SOLDIER said. "Right where you left them."

"Oh." Aerith rose quickly, flicking her dress straight, certain that her face was roughly the same color. She padded barefoot to the door, ducking out into the hall.

Genesis trailed her to the next room.

Aerith went into the small bedroom, finding her shoes and coat and— Her breath caught in her throat, frozen in place as her gaze landed on the bangle atop the nightstand. She closed her fingers over her left wrist immediately, cradling the limb to her chest. But it was too late—he knew, didn't he? Had Zack also…?

Genesis entered the room and slipped past her. "You're among friends here," he said, pushing back the glove on his left hand. The tattoo on the back of his wrist read _G1_.

She exhaled slowly, scouring her brain for any recollection…and shook her head. "I don't remember you though."

"Nor I, you," Genesis said, picking up the glittering bracelet from the nightstand. "But then, my visits to the labs were infrequent." His gaze probed, but she didn't answer. "May I?"

Swallowing, she relented, offering her left arm so that he could fasten the bangle around her wrist.

His gloved hands smoothed tenderly across her skin as he worked the clasp.

Aerith remembered being held by this man, cradled to his chest. "You carried me. You put me to bed."

The man arched a smooth brow, meeting her eyes. "I would've put you in the right bed, had you told me."

She pressed her lips. "It's not like that. Sephiroth and I—"

"Sephiroth and you…what?" Zack's voice filtered in from the doorway.

Aerith flinched away from Genesis, backing into the closet door with the red-haired SOLDIER on her right and Zack on her left. Zack was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and hurt creasing his brow. He wore the trousers and sweater of his uniform, but not the armor.

" _Gaia._ " Aerith squished her flaming cheeks with her hands. "We kind of grew up together. He's—he's like a brother to me."

"Like, but not really," Genesis said.

"Give it a rest, Gen," Sephiroth said from somewhere beyond the room. "Nothing happened. The girl was drunk and needed a good cry."

"And she picked _you_ for that? Of all people?" Genesis moved past her gracefully, disappearing into the hall. His and Sephiroth's voices retreated with their footsteps.

Aerith hung her head. "I'm…I'm telling the truth, Zack. When we were little, I used to. All the time, when I was upset—"

Zack rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling raggedly as he stepped towards her. "Sorry. I believe you; I'm just a little shocked. The General—" He dropped his hand and reached out. His warm fingers settled under her chin, tipping her head up so that their gazes met. "If you're feeling better, I don't care about how or who…"

"Zack—" Aerith launched herself into his arms, liquid stinging her eyes. "Zack, I'm sorry. I've been pushing you away, making you worry. I didn't mean to—"

His arms closed around her, enveloping her in his strength and steadiness. "It's OK." His soft words were spoken against her hair. "I just want to be there for you when you need me." He paused, his embrace loosening a little. " _If_ you need me."

"Zack, _don't_." She drew her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. "Please, I—"

He sighed, one of his hands stroking her back, threading into her hair. "I know, I'm sorry. But you can't blame a man for a little envy, can you?" He released her then.

Aerith dropped her gaze, pushing her bare toes against the carpet, worrying her fingers together. "But I couldn't, um, do that with you, Zack. Cause we wouldn't, you know…" Her face burned so badly even her ears were hot. She chewed her lower lip and forced the word out. "… _sleep_." It came out as a whisper, almost a squeak.

Zack didn't say a word for a moment and she wondered if maybe he hadn't heard her. She was _not_ about to repeat herself.

But when she hesitantly looked up—

The grin on Zack's face was bright enough to light the whole city. "You're forgiven," he said, capturing her face between his palms and kissing her.

Aerith's sound of surprise was muffled by his lips, but she immediately found herself melting into his kiss, loving the tenderness of his embrace, the way his hands slid down to spread warm across her back, holding her against him—

The kiss broke abruptly when Zack was yanked away.

"Not in my apartment," Sephiroth said, dragging Zack out of the small room by a fistful of his sweater. The General gave her a look that took several years off her life before they vanished into the hall.

"Zack, you realize you're dating the General's _sister_ , essentially." Genesis's voice came from a distance.

Aerith pressed her lips, appropriately chastised and trying not to smile. _Mom_. She thought of Ifalna. _I found him again. The other member of our little family._ She sniffed hard as she gathered her coat and headed barefoot out of the room, carrying her shoes. _He remembers me. He remembered you, too._ It didn't heal the wound of loss that still bled in her heart, but it soothed the pain, just a bit.

She followed their voices to the main room of the apartment and gaped at the wall of windows. Forgetting herself momentarily, she dropped her things and ran to the glass, staring out at the rain-drenched city. The lab had been windowless. She'd been above the plate a handful of times since she'd met Zack, but never this high up. Midgar was _huge_ from up here and the sky was endless. The clouds were more shades of white and gray than she knew existed, shifting and flowing with the wind as they poured their burdens upon the city. In the distance, one of the mako reactors burned with aquamarine flames, twisting and roiling, seething against the onslaught of rain.

A shudder went through her—the Planet's voice, not a scream, but a whimper. Aerith touched her ear regardless, just the left one. _I know. I'm sorry, I know._

"…Aerith."

She turned at the sound of Sephiroth's voice, reluctantly pulling her gaze from the reactor. He and the other SOLDIERs were gathering their weapons and filing out the door. Sephiroth was last, a bag swung over his shoulder.

They were being deployed. Zack had mentioned it, hadn't he? Weeks ago, before…

Aerith nodded. She stepped into her sandals and shrugged into her coat, following him out.

-x-

By the time the elevator reached the bottom floor, she had worked her hair into a quick braid. There was a sleek black car waiting outside, idling under a porch that shielded it from the rain. The driver got out, opening doors and the trunk of the vehicle.

Here, street-level amidst the skyscrapers, Aerith struggled to get her bearings. It was only when she caught a glimpse of the ShinRa building that she realized where she was, how close to that godforsaken lab. It was just a few blocks away. From here she could see the SOLDIERs forming ranks in the paved yard in front of the building, standing in the rain with their gear.

"I'll call you a cab," Sephiroth said, after he'd handed his bag to the driver. "I'm afraid there isn't time for one of us to see you home personally."

Her shoulders slumped, the life draining out of her as she thought of going back to that empty house. Elmyra was gone. But she drew a deep breath, shaking herself. "It's OK." Her eyes caught the second, smaller car that approached and rolled to a stop, a familiar suited figure emerging from the passenger's side. Her voice flattened a little; she couldn't help it. "Tseng will take me back."

All three SOLDIERs' eyes swung in the Turk's direction. The man wore a crisp navy blue suit and a beige trench coat, his glossy black hair gathered at the nape of his neck.

"General," Tseng said. "I would be pleased to escort the lady back to Sector Five." He moved to the rear door of the car.

Sephiroth's face was a cold mask, smooth and impenetrable. Aerith knew that face from her memories. He'd always worn that expression when Hojo or any of the Turks were nearby.

"Aerith," Zack said, frowning as he closed to her side.

"It's OK. You have to go, right?" She smiled at him. "Do I get a hug goodbye?"

Zack exhaled. In the next second, he was crushing her against him. "Be careful. Text me when you get home. I'll call later. When I can."

She nodded against his chest, squeezing him tight. "I will. Be careful out there. Come back to me, alright?"

"Always." He loosened his arms, dropping a chaste kiss on her lips. Then he was backing away, an unhappy but resigned look on his face as he headed for the car.

Sephiroth had his arms folded, looking impatient or irritated. Maybe both.

She trotted up to him, unable to withhold a smile. "What about you? Do I get a hug from you, too?"

The General stared at her, pure astonishment on his face. " _No_." He averted his gaze. "You're starting enough rumors as it is."

She couldn't help teasing him a little more. "Aww, _Sephy_ …" Her 'brother's eyes widened; he didn't blush but he twitched a little and she labored not to giggle at his embarrassment. "But I can text you, right?" She pulled her phone from the pocket of her coat.

Sephiroth glanced at her and sighed. "Fine." He loosed one hand, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a slim black phone. Flicking it open, he held it up to hers. "But I'll be busy, you know, and we won't necessarily have cell reception where we're going…"

Aerith watched the data transfer. "I know. I promise not to spam you." She looked up at him. "Just if I need to, OK?"

He met her eyes then, his expression just softening around the edges. Sephiroth nodded.

She stepped back, clutching her phone to her chest. As he moved away, she forced herself to do the same, turning and heading for the second car.

Tseng opened the rear door for her, his face the carefully neutral mask he always wore.

Aerith climbed in, sitting back against the black leather upholstery and fastening her seatbelt as Tseng closed her in behind tinted windows.

The driver wore a black suit, a uniform cap pulled low on his forehead, aviator-style shades covering his eyes. The Turk slid into the passenger seat.

A bundle of nerves woke in her midsection. "You _are_ taking me home, right? To Sector Five."

Tseng flipped his sun visor down, pushing it forward until their eyes met in the mirror. "As I said."

Aerith pressed her phone between her palms as they pulled away from the curb. The rain scattered with metallic taps against the roof of the car. She didn't trust Tseng; he'd lied to her so many times. Whatever relationship she had with Sephiroth was no deterrent to his objectives. The man hadn't even told Sephiroth about her mother's death. Tseng had known—even better than she had—how close he and Ifalna had been.

She looked out through the tinted glass…and saw Sephiroth watching her, one gloved hand on the open car door, the other on the edge of the vehicle's roof, his face cold, eyes colder still. _I'll never be as free as you wanted_. Aerith bit her lower lip gently. _But I'm free enough. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to see you again._

The sheeting rain blurred his form. When the car turned the corner, she reluctantly looked away.

-x-

Even when they turned off the freeway and descended below the plate, Aerith didn't relax. She wouldn't—not until she was out of this car, inside her house, and Tseng didn't follow her. …As if a locked door was really any kind of protection.

There was no rain below the plate, but the upper world sewers dumped into foul-smelling retention ponds and overflowed water treatment facilities. The dirt roads became mud courses pocked with holes. Still, people trudged back and forth to their jobs, their shoes and pant legs splattered with muck. They had no choice. The car drove past a group of street kids making the most of it—fishing for debris in one of the swollen underground lakes.

"The box beside you." Tseng's voice drew her attention from the window.

Aerith glanced down at the hand-sized plastic container on the seat next to her. "What is it?" she asked, looking up without touching the thing.

Tseng's dark brown eyes met hers in the mirror. "A gift."

Exhaling slowly, Aerith set her phone in her lap and hesitantly picked up the box. She popped the latch and eased it open… The box's contents glowed with its own light—soft emerald. Her fingers grazed the surface of the orb inside… Aerith recoiled. A _Sleep_ materia. Her insides turned to ice, remembering the Planet's screams, the bottle of wine…

Gulping for air, she fumbled the box closed. It took a couple of tries to reset the latch with her shaking fingers.

"It's better than the alternatives, isn't it? Spending the night on your knees in a bar bathroom."

"I don't want this." She set the box down on the seat, clutching her phone with tight fingers and turning back to the window, feeling the Turk's gaze but refusing to acknowledge him.

Tseng was quiet for several moments. He flipped the sun visor up. "Well, when you get desperate enough, let one of us know."

-x-

At her house, the rainwater streamed down from the plate above—sky-waterfalls drenching her garden. She and Elmyra had worked hard to dig irrigation trenches when she'd first started growing things here, so the upper world rain wouldn't drown her flowers.

Aerith stepped onto the doorstep of her home, the black car idling in the muddy street behind her. Her sandals and ankles were dirty from even the few steps it took to cross the small lane. She slipped her shoes off, leaving them outside for now. Closing the door behind her, she waited… Only when she heard the car pull away, tires squealing in the muck, did she finally exhale. Her shoulders drooped as the fear left her.

"I'm home," she said, her words fading into silence with no answer. The emptiness seemed like a heavy thing, if that were possible, weighing on her shoulders. It took effort to push away from the door and make herself move into the darkened, deserted room.

Aerith turned on the lights, the soft glow warming the table and hardwood floors. As she shrugged out of her coat, she flicked open her phone, composing a short message to Zack, as promised.

 _I'm home. For real—Tseng left._

Laying the phone on the table, she hung her coat on the hook beside the door and headed for the kitchen. Some of that coffee would be nice for such an early, dreary morning. She could even take a thermos to the park and share it with the older men and women who liked to rest there on their walks.

No sooner had she laid her hand on the kettle than her phone came alive with a riot of guitar riffs and buzzing against the tabletop. Aerith yelped, jumping backwards. _Gaia_ , that was the last time she was letting Zack choose his own ringtone!

She hurried back, snatching the phone up and silencing the silly thing as she flicked it open. Zack's grinning face—one of the many selfies he'd sent her—greeted her as she accepted the call.

It was video—the screen lit with the man himself, just the upper half of his face peering into the phone, his spikey hair drooping damp against his forehead and cheeks.

"Zack—" She exhaled mightily. "You scared me half to—"

"You are home!" His eyes brightened and he held the phone out a ways, giving her a more normal view of his face and upper body. "Great, just checking." His lips thinned into a line. "I don't trust Tseng or any of those guys."

"Zack…" Aerith smiled gently as his concern warmed her, even though she still felt guilty for making him worry. She opened her mouth to respond, but movement behind him distracted her—the SOLDIERs standing in tight ranks, others moving through them, troop transports rolling by loudly. "Should you be calling me right now?"

"Nope, I'm supposed to be inspecting my squad." He beamed proudly, his free hand perched on his hip. "I have my own squad this time. But it's OK." He shrugged, jabbing a thumb off-screen. "Cloud's handling it right now, so. I would've introduced you last night but he spent the whole time passed out on the bar."

"—Hey!" An indignant voice broke in from background.

Aerith giggled. "Next time."

"Next time…" Zack's face grew serious, his arm returning to his side. "Aerith, you're not really taking up drinking, are you? Alone, I mean."

Her face smoothed. "No. That was just a stupid thing I did." She pressed her lips, embarrassed. "I don't plan on doing that again. Sorry to make you worry, Zack."

His expression softened. "I've love you even if you were a lush, Aerith. But I'd miss your smile."

"Zack…" Aerith's cheeks warmed.

He pulled the phone close, lowering his voice. "You-know-who was really quiet on the drive over here. He's in a bad mood. He told off our boss—and I mean _really_ tore him a new one—over something minor, pretty much in front of the whole regiment. Not even kidding." Zack's lips quirked wryly. "He really is protective of his little sister, huh?"

She inhaled gently at the suggestion. The great General, upset for her sake? "It's weird, you know? The last time we were together, I was five. All these years seeing him on TV or reading about him in the paper… I never imagined he might remember me. Much less still think of me like _that_."

Zack smiled. "You're pretty unforgettable, Aerith."

Her cheeks went from warm to burning. "So you say. I bet I was a pretty obnoxious five year old."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, I'm gonna find out. Next time we've got a minute, I'm gonna ask him for _all_ the good stories."

Aerith gasped. "Zack, _no_!"

He laughed. "Wait, wait, wait. I gotta take a capture of your face. It's priceless."

"Zack!"

He only laughed harder.

"SOLDIER Zack Fair!" The off-screen voice thundered even through the phone. "What are you doing?! You were supposed to report to me first thing—"

"— _Shit_. Gotta go." Zack flung her a cheesy grin and a mock salute of gloved fingers, flicking a bit of black hair. "Love ya, babe. Talk to you soon!"

The line clicked dead, the image on the phone fading back to her wallpaper—another Zack selfie, this time of the two of them with her crushed against his side, beaming a little warily into the camera Zack held above them. He had one eye closed and his tongue braced against his teeth in concentration, with that trademark grin on his face.

"I love you, too, Zack…" Aerith dropped to sit on the floor, smiling and clutching the phone to her chest as fresh tears ran down her face.

-x-

The coffee remained unmade. After a handful of crackers—the only thing her delicate stomach seemed amenable to—Aerith stood on the landing at the top of the stairs, facing the closed doors of the master bedroom and trying to summon the nerve to reach for the doorknob.

She closed her eyes briefly. "I can do this." Drawing a deep breath, she grasped the brass knob, twisting it and easing the right-hand door open.

The air in the room beyond was stale from two weeks of negligence. Yellow light filtered in from the window, only dimly illuminating the made bed, the vanity and dresser, nightstand and mirror. With trembling fingers, Aerith flicked on the lights, letting a soft white glow fill the space.

It looked like Elmyra was just out for the day, not _gone._ Her adopted mother had always kept a clean house, especially after Thomas died, so the room was in right order. But here and there, Aerith could tell that Elmyra hadn't really been feeling well that morning. The quilt on the bed was just a little crooked. An old bottle of perfume and a hairbrush were set out on the vanity, next to a half-written letter, the pen laid across the page as if the writer had only planned to leave for a moment.

The guilt pressed in again. Aerith held her phone tightly in her left hand, having to consciously pull her other hand from the doorknob. _I'm sorry I didn't realize. I'm sorry I wasn't here._

With forced, halting steps, she entered the room. On the nightstand were two framed pictures—one of Elmyra and Thomas in their youth, locked in a tight embrace as they smiled for the camera. The second photo was Elmyra and her—she was very young in the picture, crying and clinging to Elmyra, who was holding her and smiling tiredly. Aerith didn't remember having the photo taken, but it must have been shortly after Elmyra had taken her in.

Her eyes burned, her face already tight from her earlier tears. She dropped onto the edge of the bed, picking up the photo and hugging it to her chest. At some point, she'd have to think about going through Elmyra's things, deciding what she would keep and what she would give away to those in need. But not today. It was enough just being in here, wrapped in the memories of the mother who wasn't coming back.

Aerith curled forward as dry sobs shuddered through her frame, her mouth cottony, her nose raw and cheeks swollen. She let the waves of grief crash over her, slumping down onto her side on the bed when she no longer had the energy to remain upright.

The Planet's sorrow rolled through her, just as raw and painful. She closed her eyes, letting that anguish meld with her own. It was different this time—not like the screams that left her reaching for the bottle. She felt the gentle press of the Planet's grief in her spirit almost like an embrace. As if it understood what she'd lost, as if it mourned with her. …As if the Planet could feel the pain of the last Cetra, its last remaining daughter; as if it couldn't help but share her heartache.

Aerith's eyes opened slowly to the room as her sobs quieted. Her gaze fell on the picture of Elmyra and Thomas together. They'd been married eight years before Thomas was killed. For twelve years, Elmyra had lived as a widow. But now they were together again, their souls with the Planet, where death, illness, and war could no longer hurt them. Ifalna was there, with her husband— Aerith's father—and all the souls of the Cetra who had walked the Planet before her.

 _It wasn't that they left me behind. They've gone ahead._ Aerith rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, still clutching the picture frame to her chest. _I'll join them someday, when you call me home. For now I'm here._ She closed her eyes, calming a little bit at a time. _I'm here._

The Planet's pain ebbed with hers and Aerith exhaled gently. _Before… You were screaming…because I was, weren't you? That's why…_

Fatigue pressed in and Aerith let it pull her under, dozing lightly, her arms slowly loosening around the photograph.

-x-

The phone woke her with a gentle buzz. Aerith opened her eyes, slowly getting her bearings. The picture frame lay beside her on the bed; she was curled up with the quilt in disarray, the lights still on and the phone glowing softly by her hip. By the clock on the nightstand it was already late. She'd slept through the day and somehow still felt tired.

Pushing herself up gingerly, Aerith flicked her phone open to a text from Zack.

 _My friend, your desire, is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess. Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return._

She blinked, rubbing her eyes. What? She stared at the phone, her brow furrowing, reading through the message again, checking the sender for a second time—

The phone buzzed again in her hand.

 _Sorry, Aerith. Genesis says HI… This place sucks. I can't wait to come home but it's gonna be awhile. Love ya, babe._

She smiled, cradling the phone close. _Zack…_ She could imagine the varied expressions on his face—annoyance, impatience, a grin when he said he loved her. She sent a quick reply.

 _Love you too. Tell Genesis, "hi" for me._

Scrubbing one hand through her bangs, she slipped off the bed and headed back downstairs, leaving the door to Elmyra's room open.

The rain must've stopped up above; the sky waterfalls had ceased falling, leaving her gardens a soggy mess under the darkening light that filtered down through the cracks in the plate. She managed to eat a little, standing up in the kitchen, still wearing yesterday's dress with this morning's mud plastered to her ankles.

After doing the dishes, she took out her phone on impulse, flipping through her contacts and composing a short text…

 _I hope things are going well._

Her finger hovered over the send button, nerves fluttering in her midsection. She didn't dare add that she missed him. Sephiroth probably wouldn't want to read something embarrassingly sentimental like that. She probably shouldn't write him at all—she had promised not to bother him unless she needed to. It wasn't like she _needed_ to, but… Drawing a breath, squeezing her eyes shut, she sent the message—

Ahh, what was she thinking? Aerith snapped the phone closed, her face burning as hotly as when she'd woken in his bed this morning. She should've at least waited until _tomorrow_. Setting the phone on the counter, she turned her back on it, making a cup of tea. Every few minutes, though, she snuck a glance at it, just in case… But the pearlescent pink case remained still and dark.

Aerith sighed, shaking her head at herself. She finished her tea and trudged upstairs to finally take a bath. When she was scrubbed clean with her hair freshly washed and loose around her shoulders, she checked her phone again. Still no messages. Aerith pouted a little and chided herself for it. He'd said he'd be busy. She set the phone on her nightstand and dressed for bed.

Closing her curtains against the ever-present yellow light outside, Aerith paused there at the window. _I don't agree with ShinRa's war and I know it hurts you. But, please, bring them safely back to me._ She couldn't bear the thought of losing another person she cared about.

Still exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as she laid down.

* * *

It was morning when Aerith woke, a bit of sunlight sneaking through the cracks in the plate to alight on her garden and filter into her bedroom between the curtains. She sat up and ran her fingers through her loose hair, feeling rested for the first time in weeks. As she got out of bed, her eyes fell on her phone, on the illuminated message icon.

She grabbed the phone and flicked it open, inhaling when she saw the messages were from Sephiroth _._ Two of them, both arriving in the middle of the night. She'd slept through the notifications.

 _Things are fine here._

She smiled, chuckling to herself with the terseness of it. As to be expected of the busy General.

The second message had been sent a few minutes later, as if an afterthought.

 _Hope you're doing well_.

Her mirth became a sigh and a warmth gathering in her chest. Aerith smiled and set the phone aside, opening her closet. She pulled out a pink dress—one of her favorites, a garment her adopted mother had made for her.

As she laid the dress out on the bed, her phone buzzed again. Another message from her 'brother,' sent just now. She had no way of knowing if it was very early or very late where he was.

 _Tell me the stories sometime, about your life with Elmyra_.

Emotion welled hot and tight in her throat, tender and sweet. She grinned, the letters blurring before her eyes as she typed a simple reply.

 _OK._

Pushing back tiny tears, Aerith got dressed for the day and went downstairs, finally making that pot of coffee to take to the park.


	4. Chapter 4

Content warning: This chapter contains substance abuse and references to war atrocities.

* * *

Sephiroth closed the phone with a snap after he'd seen her reply. At his feet, a soldier finished zipping up the body bag, sealing away the charred remains of a woman with singed, black hair. By what was left of her face, she had been middle-aged—forties, fifties maybe. Three smaller body bags were already sealed beside her—a handful out of the dozens that dotted the icy, rocky slope. An acrid wind was blowing, lifting lengths of silver hair from the back of Sephiroth's neck, raking ice crystals against his exposed skin. His coat flapped unsteadily with the gales of wind; the fingers of his left hand tightly grasped the hilt of the sword.

The snowy Wutaian village was only a blackened crater now. ShinRa firebombing had reduced it to smoldering ruins. He and his men had only arrived in time to witness the devastation…and address the aftermath. Sephiroth's paperwork said 'weapons factory.' The cluster of blackened buildings and the body count said otherwise—hospital, school, playground. It was true they'd been armed, even children of seven, eight, nine years with rifles and explosives. But the problem with a war where the enemy resolutely refused to surrender, believing death preferable to dishonor, was that the lines between mission and massacre blurred so easily. His dreams tonight would be haunted by the faces of women and children cursing him and his soldiers as they burned to death. All the while, for these missions, he was earning himself a ShinRa paycheck.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, not really feeling the cold. There was the taste of bile in the back of his throat, mingling with the bitter scent on the air, but it wasn't anything he'd succumb to here. Not him, Hojo's creation, ShinRa's perfect killing machine. He shouldn't have sent that message. Pursing any kind of relationship with her was selfish on his part and would only hurt her in the end. _I'm not who you think I am, Aerith. I'm not anyone you'd recognize anymore._

Footfalls crunching through the snow drew him back to the scorched battlefield.

Genesis brushed a gloved hand across his nose and looked away, his crimson blade strapped to his back. "Let me guess. We're lying about this one, too."

Sephiroth turned away. "You know we are." They were due back at camp. He began heading towards the pickup zone.

" _When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end_ …"

He paused his steps, staring down at the white snow marred with blood and blackened debris. Next to one of his boots was a scrap of paper trapped by a smoldering chunk of brick. The paper fluttered slowly in the wind as it burned, fire eating away lines of crayon in several once-bright colors. _We've arrived, haven't we?_

The howling wind brought no answer to his silent contemplation; Sephiroth walked on.

-x-

The command trailer was humid with the heaters going, tinged with the smell of exertion and damp gear. Sephiroth braced his hands on the edge of the table as he leaned towards the small view screen on the wall. "Report."

First Class SOLDIERs Angeal Hewley and Zack Fair looked back at him from a similar terminal in a tent a few hundred kilometers southwest of his position. It was darker where they were, the walls of the tent shuddering in the wind.

"We've reached the first target and established a perimeter," Angeal said, static from the storm occasionally cutting into his voice and image. "Supply chains are cut off. Terms were issued, but no response as of yet. Their comm lines are running quiet at the moment." His chiseled face was characteristically sober. In the background, Zack looked on with his arms folded across his chest.

Sephiroth nodded. It was good progress—their forces had departed less than a day ago. "Once the time limit expires, you're cleared to proceed to the next phase. Tactical airstrikes will continue in the outlying areas. But with the weather as it is, you won't have air support that far inland. You're on your own for now."

"Meanwhile, we're on clean-up duty," Genesis said.

Sephiroth glanced aside at him. Half a dozen Second Class SOLDIERs manned the other stations in the command trailer; Genesis sat on a stool at Sephiroth's side. The crimson-haired SOLDIER had his legs crossed and a data pad in one hand that he paid no attention to. Genesis' expression was cool and indifferent, belying the hot-blooded irritation that Sephiroth knew simmered below the surface.

Except for that glance, he didn't address Genesis' borderline mutinous remarks. Sephiroth turned back to the screen. "Next report in twelve hours, unless circumstances dictate otherwise."

Onscreen, Angeal nodded. "Understood." His eyes flicked in Genesis' direction.

"Base camp out." Sephiroth paused, drawing a breath as he straightened away from the terminal. "Get some rest."

Angeal's gaze returned to him, studying for a moment. "You too."

The feed cut into static; Sephiroth switched it off. For a moment he eyed the swirling storm on the monitor up above, then he turned away and left the command trailer.

Base camp was situated on the eastern slopes of the mountains, far to the north on the Wutaian continent. The setting sun was dipping below the peaks to the west, casting long shafts of red light across the clustered trailers and tents, all-terrain vehicles and helicopters. To the south, the sky was dark with a wall of grey storm clouds; the wind was picking up here as well.

Sephiroth's boots crunched in the snow as he headed up the rocky slopes towards his tent, nodding to the patrol troops he passed, who stopped and saluted. It was only the end of day two of this deployment and the first full day at base camp. Given the weather—which was not supposed to let up anytime soon according to their meteorologists—and how far they were from the main Wutaian forces, it was going to be a very long and dreary deployment, slogging through the elements on the enemy's turf. Typhoon season was a hell of a time for a full-scale invasion, but ShinRa investors had no sympathy for such minor inefficiencies. Having boots on the ground was progress and the ShinRa-owned press would spin whatever tales they liked out of the day's activities. No doubt he was, at this very moment, getting accolades for the destruction of the 'weapons factory.' While his SOLDIERs cleaned up the scene, the Turks would be staging the area, so that appropriate film footage could be obtained for public consumption. …None of which would erase the imagery that flashed behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.

Sephiroth nodded to the infantrymen who flanked his tent and ducked beneath the flaps. There, finally, he allowed himself to sigh. A platform inside insulated the floor from the icy ground. After flicking on the heating unit and a lamp, Sephiroth sat on the edge of it, setting his sword aside. He meant to pull off his boots, but ended up staring at them, one gloved hand curled against his forehead.

He wasn't alone for long. The tent flaps rustled, bringing a second pair of boots and the hem of a crimson leather coat into his field of vision.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, wincing at the images of charred flesh that seemed burned into his retinae. "I won't be able to sleep tonight."

"Yes, you will," Genesis said.

Sephiroth glanced up, his gaze coming to rest on the pair of silver cartridges that gleamed from the palm of Genesis' outstretched, gloved hand. "How did you get those?" His voice sounded flat to his own ears.

"I asked." Genesis set the cartridges on the edge of the platform next to Sephiroth, then unstrapped his sword and slipped his coat from his shoulders.

The tent had one small desk near the entrance with a computer terminal, stands for their armor and swords, and two rumpled bedrolls laid out on the platform, surrounded by small supply containers. As General, he could've had his own tent. The fact that he chose not to started all sorts of rumors. Sephiroth stared at the metal cartridges. Everyone thought he and Genesis were lovers. Frankly, that would've been the easier secret, if it were true. Inhaling lightly, he finally pulled off his boots and started in on his armor.

The interior of the tent warmed quickly, melting the ice crystals that clung to Sephiroth's hair. He sat cross-legged on his bedroll, stripped down to his leather trousers only as he watched Genesis load the first of the cartridges into an injector. The lamp light glinted off metal as Genesis tore open a sterile package and carefully slotted the needle into place. Like Sephiroth, he was clad only in his black leather trousers. The inside of Genesis' left elbow bore the faintest trace of dotted scars whereas Sephiroth had no lasting marks.

"You can go first if you want." Genesis set the primed injector on the tray that rested between their knees, next to a leather strap and individual packets of alcohol wipes.

Sephiroth stared numbly at the thing, at the medical symbols and dosage information stamped onto the surface of the cartridge. As much as he craved the few hours' solace the drug would give him, he couldn't help thinking of _her_ , struggling valiantly through her grief, how she clung to him and smiled as if he had brought her back from the brink of despair. What would she think of him, if she knew? What would they all think of him, if they knew he did this?

"Usually you jump at the chance to be first," Genesis said. "Something's on your mind. Or…" his voice lowered, " _someone_."

Sephiroth glanced up.

A frosty, knowing smile curved Genesis' lips and slightly narrowed his glowing eyes. "Ah. Yes. Wouldn't want your little sister to know you sometimes do this. Especially after she drank herself numb the other night."

His fingers curled against his leather-clad thighs. "You guessed?"

Genesis shrugged. "I pieced enough together in the bathroom with her. It was obvious to everyone she was out of her element."

Sephiroth dropped his gaze, sighing. _Aerith, I'm not really any kind of hero. I'm not an older brother you can look up to._

"Mind if I go first then?" Genesis asked.

He shook his head. "No."

Sephiroth watched, silent, as Genesis slipped the strap around his upper arm, pulling it taut with his teeth. A kind of cold shame settled in Sephiroth's stomach. He knew what it all felt like—the icy swipe of the alcohol, the sting of the needle, the burning sensation followed by the cool rush of euphoria. There was a _click_ ; Genesis' breath hissed through his teeth as the cartridge emptied, the muscles in his chest and shoulders tensing briefly. His face smoothed within moments, a shuddering breath of relief leaving his mouth as he lowered the injector, crimson beading inside his elbow.

Sephiroth reacted automatically and mechanically, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and passing the man a pad of gauze in exchange for the injector and strap. Genesis pressed the gauze to his arm, breathing deeply and slowly as he laid back on his bedroll while Sephiroth ejected the needle into a biohazard sharps container and discarded the cartridge and the rest of the used materials.

The stringent scent of antiseptics and alcohol stung his nostrils as he gelled and air-dried his hands. They were always careful; they knew what they were doing. It was with those kinds of things that he rationalized these moments. But it wasn't like their superiors would care if they knew. No one ever batted an eyelash about the handful of cartridges that went unaccounted for during deployments like these. All the same, Sephiroth took care to keep the secret between himself and Genesis. If Angeal ever found out… The disappointment he could imagine in his friend's eyes would quickly turn to horror if Angeal ever knew _why_ —what drove them to seek these fleeting moments of escape. An errant line from Genesis' beloved _Loveless_ flashed through his mind: _There are no dreams, no honor remains._

Genesis was breathing thickly, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his heaving chest. His arms were slack at his sides, the gauze slipping away from a wound that had already healed. The dosages they used would kill standard SOLDIERs. For them, it was merely a few hours' reprieve from the nightmares. "Things like today…" Genesis lay with his eyes closed, his lips parted as he breathed. "It really makes you wonder, doesn't it? Who we're working for… Who the real enemy is…" His brow furrowed, his right hand twitching, groping for contact as the drug pulled him under.

Sephiroth grabbed that hand, giving those clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Genesis looked at him with vacant, glassy eyes. "Are we really the good guys, Seph?"

The words hung in the air, unanswered, as Genesis' hand went limp in Sephiroth's grasp, the man's breaths going soft, shallow, and rhythmic as he slept.

 _I don't know_. Sephiroth slid his fingertips down Genesis' wrist, feeling the slow but steady beating of the man's pulse beneath his skin, counting in his head as he watched the rise-fall of his friend's chest. No signs of an abnormal reaction. Sephiroth let go and sat back, rubbing one hand over his brow as the images of things he couldn't unsee flashed behind his eyelids.

-x-

Genesis came out of it less than four hours later. Sephiroth had the lamp on low, staring at the ceiling of their tent fatigued but utterly unable to sleep. He sat up when Genesis began to move, lifting the empty basin they kept nearby.

"No, I'm fine," Genesis said, groaning a little as he pushed himself up, cradling his face with one hand. "Is it really only? …damnit."

Sephiroth lowered the basin, seeing that his friend didn't need it. But an easy wakeup was only symptomatic of the fact that the same dosage wasn't doing the same work anymore, at least for Genesis.

The man pushed crimson locks back from his face and looked over. The glow of his gaze was dimmer than usual, his eyes faintly bloodshot. "Are you taking your turn?"

He'd decided hours ago. Sephiroth loaded the second cartridge into the injector. "If you're up for it," he said, picking up a fresh needle packet.

"Yeah." Genesis shifted so that they were facing each other, leaning forward with his elbows braced against his knees.

Sephiroth went through the motions with habitual precision, moving his hair out of the way, slipping the strap around his right bicep and tasting the oiled leather as he clenched it between his teeth. The pain was brief, the relief almost instantaneous. The images melted away as the drowsy numbness flooded his veins. He didn't care about what atrocities ShinRa ordered him to commit, what Angeal would think if he knew, what _she_ would think… He didn't care about anything. Sephiroth laid back, surrendering to the tendrils of unconsciousness that coiled around him and pulled him under, hearing Genesis' voice only from a distance.

"Sleep well, my friend."

He felt warm fingers slide against his wrist and then he was out.

-x-

Reality came back violently. Sephiroth lurched up, just getting his chin over the basin Genesis thrust into his arms before he emptied his stomach. The acid burned his throat, his skin clammy with cold sweat even as his body felt feverish. Cool hands smoothed the hair back from his face, soft and soothing words falling on his ears. Sephiroth dry heaved for several more minutes before slumping, exhausted, onto his side on his bedroll.

Genesis took the basin from him. "You're rejecting it even faster than usual."

 _Damnit_. Sephiroth breathed hard, his throat raw and sour. He'd forgotten how awful it could be sometimes. He was always so desperate for sleep that he conveniently forgot what waking felt like. At least it was… But no, a glance at the computer terminal told him it wasn't yet dawn. _Fuck_. He'd been out for only two hours.

"You'll need a higher dose next time." Genesis slipped on his boots and disappeared outside with the basin.

Sephiroth heard the muffled voices outside—one of the infantrymen. "Sir, should I call for a medic?"

"No need. He's fine," Genesis said.

 _Gaia._ No, there wouldn't be a next time. "I'm done." The tent flaps rustled. Sephiroth rubbed his face with shaking fingers. "I'm fucking _done_."

"Suit yourself," Genesis said, pulling off his boots and returning to sit at Sephiroth's side. "Water?"

Sephiroth rolled onto his back and pushed himself up, accepting the bottle Genesis had opened. He rinsed his mouth, spitting into the emptied basin, then drank deeply. "Thanks." The taste was alleviated easily enough, but the headache, the nausea, the chills and flashes of fever—those would linger for the better part of the day. Sephiroth laid back, pressing the heel of his hand against his brow, as if that would stop the throbbing behind his eyes.

Mercifully, Genesis killed the lamp. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"No." Sephiroth fought to control the anger in his voice. He hated himself for being stupid. He knew better. It wasn't anyone's fault but his own. Still, it was good that Genesis kept his distance. They'd been through this before—a handful of times, so they each knew what the other needed when things went bad. Sephiroth drew one deliberate deep breath and then another. He lowered his hand, not opening his eyes. "Thanks, Gen."

"Yeah." He heard the man lie back down.

Sephiroth lay there in the dark for several minutes, the sweat drying against his skin. As the tension slowly bled from his limbs, the images of the battlefield came back, almost gleefully pressing against his eyelids. It was too hot. Sephiroth turned onto his side towards the wall of the tent, thrusting the blankets away from his body; his cell phone clattered from the bedroll onto the platform.

Genesis didn't react to the noise, though he probably wasn't asleep.

Sephiroth opened his eyes, the dull green mako glow illuminating the thin, black case. As the faces continued to swirl in his head, the phantom screams sounding in his ears, he grabbed the phone and flicked it open, tapping the keys almost without thinking about it.

 _Write to me, Aerith. About anything. Just talk to me._

He hit send before he had time to regret it, before he could realize how pathetic it sounded. At the moment, he didn't really care. The memories of the other night surfaced in his mind— Falling asleep holding her in his arms…waking with her body curled snuggly against his, his face pressed into the familiar softness of her hair— He clung to those slices of recollection, as if her presence could banish the demons that plagued him. Sephiroth closed the phone and his eyes. It was a foolish, unrealistic wish. His message would likely worry her and have her bombarding him with questions about what was going on, but—

The phone buzzed in his hand. Sephiroth flicked it open immediately.

 _It's night here, see?_

She'd sent a picture—of a garden of flowers bathed in dim yellow lighting, with only slivers of night sky visible through the cracks in the plate that was the ceiling over wherever she was.

 _I can only really tell when I go outside and look at the sky. They never change the lights down here—you'd think that they would, you know? Make it brighter during the day and dimmer at night. But the light is always at this constant, darkish level. That morning in your apartment—even though it was a rainy day—that was the first real daybreak I've ever seen._

He heard her voice in his head, reading her words to him. An inexplicable sense of calm went through him, quieting the screaming not completely, but enough. Sephiroth exhaled heavily, a rare bit of emotion lodging itself in his throat. _Aerith_. He'd never again claim to love another human being. He'd loved Professor Gast, and Gast had died. It was because he'd loved Ifalna that he'd helped her and her daughter escape while he stayed behind. But Ifalna was dead, too.

He shouldn't risk getting attached to Aerith. He knew better. But, if he was honest with himself, it was probably already too late. The moment she'd shown up in his life again—and he'd let her in—from _then_ … He already didn't want to lose this feeling of having someone out there who was thinking about him.

Sephiroth curled his fingers around the phone and closed his eyes, chasing sleep in the blessed reprieve of silence.

* * *

The days bled into weeks, bled into months. Base camp slowly moved beneath the storm—by now Sephiroth was sure the weather was magically sustained—while Zack and Angeal's forward troops crept inland. The airstrikes and the associated 'cleanup' continued. While Genesis 'slept,' Sephiroth drank and read Aerith's emails. He knew he was only trading one substance for another, but hangovers were preferable to the alternative. And her voice, in his head, kept him sane.

 _I thought about selling the house. It's so empty with just me now. So I thought maybe I'd sell it and use the money to fix up the abandoned church in Sector Five. It's a nice building—the church—but it's falling apart. Things—and people, actually—just fall from the ceiling all the time (ask Zack about that). But I thought, if it was fixed up, maybe it could be a school, or a place for the street kids to live, or both._

 _But when I went to talk to the realtor and showed him the house, he said there wasn't a market for it. No one could afford to buy it, except some of the upper world investors who would just take the land and make it into another landfill or sewage treatment plant or something. So, all that to say I kept the house._

 _Sorry—I'm rambling. I know. Zack says I do this. Feel free to tell me to stop, OK?_

 _A couple weeks later, the realtor called. One of the nurses at the local clinic was looking around for a place to rent cheaply for rehabilitation and hospice care for soldiers returning from the war. (As an aside, I would've thought ShinRa would do more for its wounded men, but it seems like the ones who were from the slums or really have trouble reintegrating or aren't going to get better…seems like they're on their own. I don't get it. I don't mean to judge your company, but… actually, yes I do. Sorry. Kind of.) Anyways, the clinic doesn't have enough space, but trying to find inexpensive facilities in good condition…_

 _At first I was going to say no. I didn't think I could handle it—being around doctors and nurses—too many bad memories. But these doctors and nurses aren't like the ones we grew up with. They're focused on helping people heal—they don't have agendas and research; their patients aren't specimens or lab experiments. It helps that they don't wear lab coats, either._

 _Long story short, my house is now home to veterans who are either slowly mending or trying to be comfortable for their last few days. Instead of charging rent, I'm training in nursing, working at home and in the clinic. The credentials won't be worth anything above the plate, but it might lead to a job down here and maybe someday I can still save up enough to fix the church._

 _The work and studying is really hard. And sad. Most of the soldiers have so many nightmares. They wake up disoriented, thinking they're still on the battlefield. They've seen things that can't be unseen, done things that can't be undone. There's a lot of regret, pain, and isolation. A lot of what I do is listen. It's hard, but, I'm glad I can do it. It makes me feel closer to you, somehow, helping these soldiers—some of them even fought in your regiment._

 _I hope you're OK. The news only covers the victories, the progress… they don't talk about what it costs. Or who pays that price._

 _Anyways, I'd better go. I need to get some sleep. One thing I've learned about soldiers is that they don't sleep much._

 _Zack says he doesn't seen you often; that your missions have you in different locations most of the time. He says you're quiet, though. More so than usual. I know you can't talk about it—mission secrecy and all that, but let me know you're OK, alright? When you can. I just…worry, you know?_

 _Love,_

 _Aerith_

Sephiroth sighed, snapping the phone shut and taking another swallow of the amber liquid in his glass. (Perks of being the General—he had ice and a real glass despite being on the rocky slopes in the middle of nowhere.)

" _There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess_."

Sephiroth lowered his glass. "I didn't realize you were awake."

Genesis sat up, curling forward against his knees, pushing one hand through the errant crimson strands of his hair. The earring in his right ear glinted in the lamp light. "I've been up for a while." He exhaled. "So that's enough for you?" Genesis' lips pursed, his gaze cooling. "A glass of whiskey and the affections of the goddess."

"It's hardly one glass, Gen."

The man flipped a hand dismissively. "You know what I'm getting at, Seph."

Sephiroth's fingers tightened around the glass. This conversation was inevitable, but he didn't want to be having it. "Look, it wasn't working for me anymore. I'm not judging."

Genesis chuckled—a raw, abrasive sound. "No, of course not. You wouldn't dream of thinking yourself superior. Just different, right? But you'll happily sit here and watch me give in to weakness, night after night."

Sephiroth inhaled, tensing. "Gen—"

Those bloodshot, mako-blue eyes narrowed at him. "I'm tired of it, _General_. Your condescending attitude, as if you're better than the rest of us. We all do whatever we can to get through while you just blithely—"

"Genesis." Sephiroth lowered his voice. "That's not at all what I—"

"Spare me—as if it means anything to you. How lovely that you and your fake sister are hitting it off. I'm glad. As is Zack, I'm sure." Genesis laid down, rolling onto his side with his back to Sephiroth. "Goodnight."

Sephiroth set the glass down firmly, exhaling through his nose, his jaw tight as he eyed the coiled muscles in his friend's back. "I'm not like you. I didn't have any kind of family growing up—"

A bitter half-laugh left Genesis' mouth. "You imagine I had some glorious childhood, because I lived with adopted parents ShinRa paid to raise me?" He rolled onto his back, rubbing his left hand across his eyes, the _G1_ tattooed on his wrist catching the dim light. "Get over yourself, Seph. We're all sick of it."

Anger flared inside him. "That's what you think I'm doing; why I'm here?" He thrust the blankets aside, rolling onto his knees, loose hair spilling over his shoulders as he faced his friend. "That I'm sitting here mocking your pain? _Gaia_ , Gen." Sephiroth grabbed that wrist with his right hand, his own _S1_ tattoo clearly visible. "We had a pact. That's what's real to me. You have my back and I have yours. I'm not letting you change that."

Genesis' eyes flashed open, pinning him in the cold mako-blue glow of his gaze. His hand curled into a fist and he pushed himself up on his other elbow. Sephiroth held the man's gaze unwaveringly and didn't let go.

Eventually, Genesis exhaled slowly and looked away. " _Goddess_ , Seph." He laid back down.

Sephiroth felt some of the tension leave Genesis' limbs. He hesitantly relaxed his hold.

Genesis pushed him away. " _Do you fly away now? To a world that abhors you and I?_ " The man sighed, closing his eyes. "Fine. You win."

* * *

Rumored reports of his and Genesis' little 'tiff' swirled through base came from the next day, never intentionally in the General's earshot of course. They just weren't aware how good his enhanced hearing really was. So he heard all about their 'lover's quarrel' and how he and Genesis supposedly made up. Sephiroth ignored it all. Addressing it would've only added fuel to the fire. He had more pressing matters to attend to, between Lazard's incessant requests for status and the business of actually running this war.

As Angeal and Zack made progress on the front lines, holes in the endless storm appeared and Sephiroth was able to advance to their position. Fort Tamblin, the last Wutaian stronghold, was still weeks of progress away, but they were slowly gaining on it. The Wutaian resistance was breaking down—due, in part, to the many airstrikes ShinRa still conducted. Most of the targets now were military outposts though, rather than civilian facilities (or so the paperwork claimed).

The snowy mountain slopes gave way to humid valleys and thick jungles. The smell of sweat and mildew was pervasive in camp. Even after multiple showers each day, Sephiroth still felt sticky. The command trailer was one of the only air conditioned areas; even so, he still cursed the heavy curtain of hair that hung against his back and stuck to everything. His leather uniform was worse, though.

Sephiroth scrolled through the reports on his data pad, frowning. "Intelligence found another target—back in the mountains. A civilian research facility."

"Weren't you guys just there?" Zack asked. The pup was sitting on a stool, holding onto it as he stretched his legs out, grimacing. His spikey black hair hung limp against his face from the dampness of the air.

"This is apparently a separate matter." Sephiroth pressed his lips. "There's evidence of ties to Hollander."

Angeal's face darkened. The large man folded his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking towards Genesis.

Genesis was sitting on another stool, his legs crossed, fanning himself with a data pad and looking off into the distance as if he wasn't listening.

"Why would the Wutaians have any connection to a crazy scientist who abandoned ShinRa months ago?" Zack asked.

Sephiroth lowered the data pad. "I didn't say this had anything to do with the war."

"Which you'd know if you'd read your dossier this morning like I told you to," Angeal said, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the young SOLDIER.

Zack snorted, folding his arms. "I skimmed it."

"Seeing that sensitive corporate information is potentially involved, Lazard wants one of the four of us to investigate." Sephiroth leaned back against the countertop, taking a moment to sweep his hair away from his back, though it wasn't much of an improvement.

Angeal faced him again. "And if Hollander is there?"

"Take him into custody and wait for the Turks."

"I'll go," Genesis said, slipping off his stool and leaving the data pad there. He headed for the trailer's exit. "The air will be cooler."

"I'll meet you there later if I can," Sephiroth said.

Genesis threw him a cool glance. "If you insist, General. But I can handle it." With an errant flip of his hand, he left.

-x-

Paperwork ended up taking the majority of the day—the very un-glorious reality of being General of the ShinRa army. But Sephiroth managed to make time to keep his promise to Genesis, if only for a few hours' reprieve from the suffocating heat of the lowlands. He sat in the copilot's seat of the chopper, looking out over the rocky, mountainous terrain below. The slight let-up in the weather must've allowed intelligence access to satellite imagery to find this place, because there was nothing out here.

"Approaching the coordinates, sir," the pilot said over interphone, the upper half of his head covered by a helmet and shades.

Sephiroth touched his headset and nodded. As they banked over the target area, he got a look at the place below—a building camouflaged to look like the surrounding terrain, partially reduced to rubble. Bodies littered the scorched ground, thin rivers of crimson running down the slopes with melting snow. Sephiroth recognized both choppers on the ground as belonging to the Turks. The transport that Genesis would've taken was absent.

"Set us down there." He pointed.

"Rog." The pilot maneuvered them over a clear area and set the chopper on the ground.

Sephiroth wrenched off his headset. "Don't shut down." He flung the door open and stepped out, ducking to avoid having his hair meet the whirling blades.

Groups of infantrymen, attended by Turks, were hauling bodies around, collecting them into piles and lighting them on fire. They weren't human, those corpses.

Tseng, wearing a perfectly pressed navy blue suit, turned as he approached. "You're late, General. SOLDIER Rhapsodos already left." The man's face was a cool, emotionless mask.

"I wanted to be here sooner," he said. "Was there sign of Hollander?"

"Of his work, yes; of him, no." Tseng walked him to a pile of bloodied corpses.

Sephiroth went cold, staring down at the abominations at his feet—naked monstrosities with vaguely human limbs that ended in claws or talons, some with scales instead of skin. A few even had feathered, wing-like appendages. But their faces were all perfectly human with Wutaian features, both men and women, and some very, very young. "These were…people." His voice came out slightly hoarse.

"Genetic experimentation," Tseng said. "There's evidence that some were…grown. Others were, apparently…modified." He said it all so dispassionately, as if he were discussing the weather. "SOLDIER Rhapsodos handled the situation with unfortunate efficiency. There are no survivors, either lab technicians or these. We would've liked to question someone about what was going on here."

"Then take care of it yourselves next time," Sephiroth said, turning away. "If you don't like the way we handle things."

Tseng sighed. "It's going to be difficult, spinning this one."

"That's not my problem." He walked away, curling his right hand into a fist, as if he could feel the tattoo burning against his skin.

-x-

It was nightfall by the time he got back to base camp. He saw Angeal and Zack in the mess tent, just finishing their evening rations. Sephiroth stopped by their table. "Genesis?"

"He got back a couple hours ago. Said he was going to work on his report," Angeal said, draining the last of a bit of coffee.

"Ah." Sephiroth relaxed a little bit.

Zack brushed shards of damp hair from his forehead. "There are, uh, a lot of weird rumors going around."

" _Zack_." Angeal shot the pup a warning look.

"About the mission?"

Zack pursed his lips, shaking his head.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and walked off. "Angeal…"

He heard a satisfying _thud_. "Squats, SOLDIER. Start with fifty."

Zack grunted as he picked himself up off the floor. "One… Two…"

Sephiroth passed swiftly through the jungle camp, heading for his tent. The temperature had fallen slightly, but night had not alleviated the humidity one bit. Most of the camp had settled down other than those on patrol.

A bit of light seeped through the seams of the tent. Sephiroth nodded to those standing guard and ducked inside. Genesis was already 'sleeping,' lying on his bedroll, stripped down to his leather trousers.

" _Gaia_ , you were supposed to wait for me," Sephiroth muttered. He yanked off his boots and wrenched his leather coat from his shoulders, flinging it aside in irritation. "That was the one rule. You _wait_."

The injector and spent cartridge were lying at Genesis' side. Sephiroth sat on his bedroll and snapped on gloves, reaching for Genesis' wrist as he searched for the sharps container.

Genesis' skin was unusually cool to the touch. Sephiroth froze, his fingertips roving, searching for a pulse— He peeled off one glove, digging his fingertips hard into Genesis' wrist… There was the weakest throb, barely pushing back at him, slow…slowing…

Icy panic squeezed his chest. "Genesis—" He shook the man; no response. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening— Sephiroth leaned over Genesis' body, hovering with his cheek over the man's nose and mouth…and felt nothing. No breath, barely a pulse…

Sephiroth sat back, his arms and hands shaking, images of all those corpses and body bags flashing behind his eyes. _No. Gaia, no—_

Rescue breathing—that was step one. Sephiroth centered himself with a deep breath as training and adrenaline kicked in. With a pulse, chest compressions weren't necessary. Open the airway… He tilted his friend's head back, pinching his nose, two fingers against the chin. Inhaling, Sephiroth sealed his mouth over Genesis' cold, bluish lips, exhaling and feeling Genesis' lungs fill with air. He gave two breaths and counted to thirty, while dumping the contents of his friend's bag out beside them. There should have been, somewhere, another cartridge—the emergency cartridge… _Goddamnit, where was it?_

Sephiroth gave Genesis two more lungfuls of air and grabbed his phone, his vision dancing with spots from the effort of repeated forced breaths. He hit speed dial and speaker phone, dropping the phone on the platform beside his knee as he felt Genesis' throat for a pulse. _Gaia_ , the man was flat-lining. Sephiroth rose up on his knees, locking his hands together and beginning chest compressions. "Goddamnit, pick up the phone!"

"Uh, sir?" One of the infantrymen poked his head inside. His young face went white. "I'll—I'll call for a medic!"

Sephiroth didn't stop what he was doing. "If a medic would've helped, I would've yelled for one. Get me Angeal!"

"Seph—" Angeal's voice crackled through the phone.

"It's Gen. He's not—"

"On my way."

Sephiroth continued CPR, even though his lungs burned and his arms ached. He felt Genesis' ribs crack under the strain, but that was OK—anything to keep blood pumping through his friend's veins, anything to keep him from dying. It was the longest two minutes of his life.

Angeal burst into the tent with Zack on his heels. "Zack, keep them clear out there."

"Yeah." The boy nodded, shaking as he ducked back outside.

"Angeal!" Sephiroth barely looked up. "I need you to the find the—"

"—How much did he take?" Angeal shoved things out of the way, dropping to one knee at Sephiroth's side and opening a pouch at his waist.

Sephiroth shook his head. "I don't know." He glanced at the spent cartridge. "The other night, it was fifty cc's. But this one's different."

"Straight up? _Gaia_. You guys _are_ trying to off yourselves." Angeal yanked a small injector from the pouch, pulling off the cap with his teeth and ramming the needle into Genesis' thigh. The injector discharged a bright red cartridge.

Their friend's body jerked.

Angeal shoved Sephiroth aside. "Come on, Gen. Wake up. Nap time's over, sweetheart." He tapped Genesis' cheeks firmly with his gloved hands.

Sephiroth sat back, slowly catching his breath, his arms shaking from the exertion. The seconds ticked by with excruciating, maddening slowness…

The crimson-haired SOLDIER suddenly coughed and drew a shuddering breath. Color returned to Genesis' face.

"That's it, Sleeping Beauty," Angeal said. "Open your eyes for me."

Genesis shook, his face contorting with pain, his forehead slick with sweat. He curled onto his side and blinked, his voice weak and hoarse. " _Goddess_ , I hate you, Angeal."

"Yeah, the feeling's mutual." Angeal smiled faintly.

Genesis lay there, drawing slow, noisy breaths, bruises forming on his chest.

Sephiroth felt dizzy with relief. "You've been carrying that around." He pressed his lips, his shoulders falling as the shame rose inside him. "You knew."

Angeal glanced at him. "Yeah." His face smoothed into resentment. "But I didn't say anything, so I'm just as complicit." He sighed. "I didn't think you guys were up to that much."

" _Gaia,_ Seph. What did you do to me?" Genesis' fingers coiled, trembling, against the angry red and purple splotches blossoming on his skin.

Sephiroth shoved hair back from his face. "Hang on." He fumbled through his bag amidst the mess, grabbing a _Restore_ materia. The _Cure_ spell filled the tent with coils of emerald light. For a moment, a blue glow enveloped Genesis' chest. When it faded along with the bruises, the man's breathing eased.

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place?" Zack asked, peering in between the flaps of the tent.

Behind the kid was just about every SOLDIER in the camp. _Damnit._ Of all the times to have an audience…

Genesis fixed him with a glare from bloodshot, heavily shadowed eyes. "You called the cavalry?"

Angeal stood, blocking them from view. "There's nothing to see here. All of you back to your duties. Right now!" The SOLDIERs scattered. "Not you, Zack."

Sephiroth glared back. "If you hadn't decided to be such a prima donna and fucking OD on me—"

"Where the hell were you, when I needed—"

"Both of you, _shut up_!" Angeal's booming voice filled the tent. He was standing over them, his large hands perched on his hips. "We're all going to have a fun enough time explaining this come morning, but for now I want answers. And don't bother explaining how—I can guess that. Tell me _why_."

Sephiroth sat back, quiet. He felt like a teenager again, those countless times early on in their training when he and Genesis would get into it and Angeal would break them up. Angeal had always been the older, responsible one. Still, words failed him. He couldn't think of anything worse than Angeal knowing what he'd done—what they'd been trying to escape from.

"I won't do it anymore, Angeal," Genesis said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I won't kill another child. Human, monster… it doesn't matter. This isn't war anymore."

Angeal's breath hissed out through his teeth. "What are you talking about? I've read all the reports." His face hardened as he looked at Sephiroth. "You signed them."

Anger welled up inside him—at himself, at his superiors, but mostly at his own failure to do something about it. Something that would've prevented this night from ever happening. "Yes, I signed them. Masterpieces of fiction, all of them." Sephiroth's hands balled into fists against his leather-clad thighs. "To weaken the enemy, so the frontlines could progress. So we can someday end this godforsaken war."

Angeal rubbed a gloved hand over his face. "I don't know why you're bothering to defend them. If you were OK with it, you wouldn't be sitting here shooting up with stuff like that. Playing roulette with your goddamn lives."

"I don't get it." Zack entered cautiously, his mako-blue eyes sweeping over the scattered injectors, cartridges, and other medical supplies. He grimaced. "There are other ways to—"

"Not for us, Puppy," Genesis said, shifting to lie on his back, still moving gingerly. "The three of us are different than your average SOLDIER. Our bodies resist, adapt, reject. A simple _sleep_ spell will numb you. We are not so fortunate."

"Yeah, OK." Zack scratched his head, his face pale. "But what do you mean, _children_?"

Sephiroth's jaw twitched. He didn't answer.

" _Gaia_." Angeal dropped to sit on the platform. "I had reservations about this operation from the beginning, but…"

"Lazard and Heidegger know the Wutaians won't surrender," Sephiroth said quietly. "Unless they're persuaded or sufficiently motivated."

"It's not a bad line of logic," Genesis said, his lips thinning into a line. "But ShinRa doesn't take into account how stubborn these people are. How do you fight people like that? When to them it's a matter of honor?"

"Honor shouldn't be wasteful," Angeal said.

Genesis lifted a brow. "Whose side are you on, my friend?"

The large man grew silent. Sephiroth couldn't find anything to say, either.

Reality encroached on his thoughts as the adrenaline cooled in his veins. It was evening. Come morning, he'd have to address this situation with his troops. They were still in enemy territory, hundreds of swampy kilometers away from the Wutaian military headquarters, still mostly pinned down by this incessant, magical storm—

His phone buzzed, four pairs of eyes falling onto the slim, vibrating black case.

"Lazard probably," Angeal said and sighed. "Comms must've called back—"

"I swear I didn't say anything," Zack said, spreading his hands in front of him, palms out. "I just told people to stay back, like you said—"

Sephiroth picked up the phone, flicking it open, the fingers of his free hand curling with a trace of undefinable emotion when he saw the sender. "Not him."

 _Seph, is everything OK? Look, I know I shouldn't ask, but… I've been having the feeling that awful things are happening. Loss of life, I mean. The news doesn't say anything and 'they' haven't been around watching me, so I can't ask. But some of the soldiers I've treated in the past few months…they try not to talk, but I hear things they talk about in their sleep; sometimes they scream… Seph, it's frightening. I know it's 'war,' but this can't be right—this can't be OK. Some of the spirits I feel returning to the Planet, they're really young. They're…children, aren't they?_

The screen cracked between his thumb and forefinger, splintering her words behind the glass. He could imagine her trembling voice so easily, as if she were speaking straight into his ear, grasping at his arm with tears gleaming in her glowing emerald eyes. Sephiroth quietly, numbly, closed the phone.

"Definitely not Lazard," Genesis said, smirking as he pulled himself up to sit, resting his bare arms loosely around his bent knees.

Sephiroth saw Zack stiffen in his peripheral vision; he felt the boy's keen gaze but didn't look up. _I don't even know where to start, Aerith. There's so much blood on my hands already._

"First things first," Angeal said, scrubbing his forehead with one hand. "Once headquarters finds out what happened tonight, the first thing they'd do is recall Genesis to Midgar for evaluation."

"So Hojo can fix me." Genesis grimaced. " _Goddess_ , that's not happening. Going home to Banora would have the same effect."

"We'll go somewhere else," Angeal said. "You need treatment, but not the kind you'll get in ShinRa's labs."

Genesis sniffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, Angeal. And what do you mean, 'we'?"

"I'm going with you, obviously."

Sephiroth inhaled slowly.

"You're…talking about deserting," Zack said very quietly.

Angeal arched a brow, glancing back at the boy. "Are you going to turn us in, Zack?"

Zack's shoulders slumped. "No. But you're… This is all happening so fast. It doesn't even feel real."

Sephiroth watched Angeal rise to his feet, resting a hand on one of the boy's shoulders—a familiar gesture. Sephiroth had been in Zack's position before.

"There are multiple ways to affect change, Zack. External ways and internal ways. You haven't been here long enough to see what we've seen. Pick your own loyalties. Above all, protect your honor."

The boy inhaled, his face stricken. "Angeal…"

Angeal glanced back over his shoulder. "Gen, get packed up. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"Yeah." Genesis reached for his bag and scattered belongings.

Sephiroth drew a breath and exhaled slowly. "I'll sign the release. Medical—we won't even need a cover for that."

Angeal nodded. The large man unsnapped the pouch from his belt and pressed it to Zack's chest. "Hang onto this. It's your job to watch him now. If it's an emergency, don't hesitate to use it."

Zack, wide-eyed, accepted the pouch.

"He won't need that. It's been almost three months," Sephiroth said.

Angeal gave him a cool look. "That's what they all say, right? You need help too, but Gen's first."

Sephiroth looked away, irritated.

"Where will you go?" Zack asked, securing the pouch to his hip.

"Mideel is supposed to be lovely this time of year," Genesis said.

"Right…" Angeal said in a dry voice. "Because those ritzy rehab clinics by the beach _won't_ be the first place Hojo and company look when you go missing."

Genesis sighed.

Sephiroth pressed his lips. "Aerith's running a clinic out of her house. The Turks are all here. It might be a place to lie low for a while."

Again, he felt Zack's gaze.

"She's studying to be a nurse," he said, finally meeting the boy's eyes and not relishing the conversation they'd be having as soon as Genesis and Angeal left.

Angeal shrugged. "It might work for now. Eventually, though, we'll need to leave Midgar."

"Plenty of places to hide in the slums, at least for a little while," Genesis said. With his bag situated, he rose, brushing back sweat-dampened hair and reaching for his discarded coat and boots.

Zack cleared his throat softly. "I can tell you how to find it."

Sephiroth got to his feet, dressing quickly also. "I'll do the paperwork." He stepped out into the humid night, into the quiet camp, into the furtive glances of his guards and the other SOLDIERs on patrol. That was it, though—glances.

He made his way to the command trailer and completed the paperwork quickly. Med evac for SOLDIER Rhapsodos, escort SOLDIER Hewley. Angeal and Genesis could handle their own disappearance easily enough. He didn't spare any thought for what would happen come morning.

By the time he exited the trailer, the chopper was already warming up. Genesis and Angeal approached with bags slung over their shoulders, Zack in tow.

Sephiroth went to meet them.

Genesis stopped close to him, smoothing back a bit of hair, not smiling. His eyes were still bloodshot; still bruised with fatigue. "Sorry. I didn't mean to put you through that."

Sephiroth nodded. "How about promising me that'll be the only time?"

"Yeah." The crimson-haired man leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'll give her your love."

He inhaled. "Don't you dare."

Genesis smirked—his eyes glittering with amusement—and moved away. Angeal nodded to him and then the two were climbing into the chopper, lifting off—

—Leaving him with Zack, an army, a war… Sephiroth refused to let his discontent show in front of his men. Ignoring them all, he headed back to his tent. Zack trailed him inside, apparently taking his assignment from Angeal literally. Already there was a new bedroll spread out in Genesis' place. All of the medical supplies had been cleaned up and tucked away.

Sephiroth dropped onto the edge of the platform, pushing back sticky bangs. "Look, Zack—"

"Is it OK if we don't have this conversation right now?" Zack didn't meet Sephiroth's eyes as he sat and yanked off his boots. "Morning's in a few hours, my mentor just left, my girlfriend is—" He cut off abruptly, his face smoothing. "I'd rather not do or say something I'm going to regret in front of my commanding officer."

"…Fine with me."

The young SOLDIER pulled off his armor and stretched out on his bedroll. Within minutes, Zack was snoring.

Sephiroth rubbed a gloved hand over his brow and sighed. Why did interpersonal relationships have to be so damned complicated?

Eventually, he removed his armor and coat. The leather peeled away from his skin, every inch of him feeling grimy from the humidity. Sephiroth grimaced—he needed a shower. Snagging a dry towel, he ducked outside in his trousers and boots.

As he walked through the humid night, the phone in his pocket shifted against his hip. Sephiroth paused, drawing it free. He flipped the case open (he'd need to requisition a replacement in the morning). The ruined screen flickered to life, jumping around a bit before settling on an older message of hers that he'd saved. Her words and the memory of her voice came to him between the cracks of glass…

 _Life happens…without asking permission, before I'm ready. Some things I saw coming, but I always thought there'd be more time. There was always more time. Things always turned out OK…until they didn't._

Sephiroth inhaled slowly, typing a reply to the same thread.

 _I was lucky tonight, Aerith._

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. In his private shower trailer, he rinsed off and towel dried his hair. When he stepped out of the shower stall to get dressed, his phone softly glowed from where it rested on top of his folded trousers, the message icon illuminated.

Sephiroth slung the towel around his neck as he read.

 _I know. The Planet told me—that someone you care about almost returned to it. That's not luck, Seph. You were there for him when he needed you, weren't you? That's a gift we don't always get. You can tell me about it, if you want. When—if—you're ready. I'll be here._

Sephiroth closed his eyes, the tension slowly bleeding from his limbs, her imagined voice in his head broken only by the sound of water dripping from his hair to the floor. _Maybe someday_ , he thought. Giving his hair another scrub with the towel, he dressed and headed back out into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Zack woke up knowing he'd overslept. _Damnit._ Angeal was going to kill him. He vaulted from his cot to the ground, reaching for his sword—

—Except the ground was two feet too high and his sword wasn't where it was supposed to be. Zack's knees crashed against the wooden platform; the electric lantern tipped over and rolled. It was dark in the tent, but a sliver of light filtered in through the gap in the tent flaps, faintly illuminating unfamiliar surroundings…

Reality felt like an _Ice_ spell to the face, piercing him through the chest and leaving him cold. Zack sat back on his ankles, the vigor draining from his limbs. He was in the General's tent…and Genesis and Angeal were gone. The images flickered back, monochrome and surreal—Genesis nearly dying…Genesis and Angeal walking away, boarding the chopper and disappearing into the night. An extra object hung from his belt; Zack clutched it with one hand—the small pouch Angeal had given to him—the medicine and mission Angeal had entrusted him with.

How had all of his dreams of SOLDIER shattered in the space of _minutes_? Angeal had been lecturing him as he counted out his squats, not exactly smiling, but those mako eyes had been warm with amusement and affection. _You know, Zack, one of these days everything I'm trying to tell you will finally penetrate that thick skull of yours. Duty, honor, dreams. Someday you'll get it. If it takes a thousand squats_ —here, Angeal had almost smiled at him— _well, we'd better get on with it. Right, Zack?_

Then, that phone call…

 _Angeal_. _How could you just—?_ Zack rubbed one hand over his face. _I don't know what the fuck is going on anymore._

Sephiroth wasn't in the tent. Judging by how tidy the General's bedroll and other effects were, he'd been up for a while.

Zack armored up for the day, the weight of his pauldrons and sword leaden against his shoulders and back. Usually, he was leaping headfirst into action, spoiling for his next mission. Not today. Brushing hair back from his forehead with gloved fingers, he went outside into murky daylight. Gray and violet storm clouds were roiling overhead; a downpour looked imminent.

"Uh, good morning, sir!" The infantryman stationed at the tent's entrance quickly came to attention and saluted.

Zack returned the gesture. "Where's the General?"

"At the command trailer, sir. He left word for you to report to your troops."

Zack exhaled. "Got it."

He headed down a slight ridge into the main camp beneath the leafy, jungle canopy. For the first time, he was the object of furtive glances, quiet conversations hastily ended… The whole camp must've been talking about what happened last night. Their scrutiny tightened the muscles in his back and left a sour feeling in his stomach. The rain started— _just fucking fantastic—_ and by the time he reached the clearing where his troops were waiting for him, he was drenched.

Two full companies were standing in formation—his troops and Angeal's. They were suited up in soaked blue uniforms, the red lights of their helmets piercing the incessant sheets of rain. The SOLDIERs came to attention in neat ranks when they saw him approach.

Private Strife was at the head of the columns and saluted. "Sir." He held out a data pad.

Zack took it, scanning its contents. There was a lump in his throat when he finished, clutching the rain-studded data pad in gloved fingers as he looked out over Angeal's men. _Why aren't you here, Angeal? I shouldn't be the one doing this._

"I'm ordered to formally take command of Victor Company, for now," he said. The rain dripped from his hair, running down his face. Zack propped his left hand on his hip, addressing both units. "For November Company and Victor Company, orders are to break camp and move out. One hour." He paused, his mouth drawn into a line. "Dismissed."

The SOLDIERs scattered wordlessly, mud and rain splashing from their boots as they filed back into the jungle—all except Cloud. The young Private stayed back with him; Zack could feel Cloud's gaze even through the glowing helmet.

He sighed as he turned, headed in the direction of the command trailer. "Even if I wanted to talk about it, I couldn't." He brushed rain droplets and wet hair from his face.

Cloud fell in with him, carrying his rifle. "Wasn't gonna ask."

They walked in silence for a few seconds.

"…You OK?"

Zack stopped briefly, a thousand confused emotions pouring through him. _I don't even know how to answer that question._ So he didn't. They continued on.

-x-

Inside the command trailer, Zack grabbed a towel, soaking up as much water from his hair and uniform as he could. Sephiroth was annoyingly dry.

The General was standing in front of the wall of monitors, his pale, glowing gaze locked on the meteorological readouts. Sephiroth's hair flowed down his back like a sheet of liquid quicksilver. His ridiculous sword was at his side, taking up most of the room in the trailer.

Zack's hand brushed the pouch at his waist as he lowered the towel. _We're not like you, Puppy_ , the words came to him in Genesis' voice. That vague statement aside, it leveled things a little in Zack's mind—the thought of Sephiroth medicating when he couldn't take it anymore. Zack, like many of the others, had a mastered _Sleep_ materia he didn't talk about. He tried not to use it and it wasn't a particularly good idea in the field, but when things got bad enough…

For the first time, he caught a glimpse of the humanity underneath the godlike, heroic edifice that was the ShinRa army General. It was a rare privilege, not that Sephiroth had particularly entrusted him with it, rather, it'd been thrust upon them both circumstantially. The bitterness crept in. _So, yeah, I can relate. I get it. But if you and Genesis hadn't been fucking yourselves up like that, Angeal would still be here._

"The storm is centered on Sangba Village," Sephiroth said, breaking the silence suddenly. "When it's taken care of, we'll be able to move on Fort Tamblin unhindered." His voice was its usual cool monotone. Last night with Genesis and Angeal had been the only time Zack had heard emotion in the man's voice, not to mention the only time he'd ever heard the normally dispassionate and tactful General drop an f-bomb.

Zack's eyes flicked to the map and back to the weather displays. "You're sure? Cause it wouldn't really make sense to position your primary defenses at a satellite location." He managed to keep his tone civil.

Sephiroth exhaled, not turning. "Zack, if you need to be reminded to review your dossier every morning I'm not sure how you made First Class at all."

Zack raised his arms over his head and stretched a little, then settled with hands resting against the back of his head. "I skimmed it." His lips pursed; he fought the urge to glare at the General's back.

"There's a mako fountain at Sangba. A fairly recent discovery. For a spell of this size and duration, it's an ideal power source." Sephiroth's gloved fingers tapped a paper map that was spread out on the counter in front of the displays. "My troops will deal with it while yours press on towards the Fort."

Zack swung his arms as he debated for half a second, trying to decide who he'd rather piss off—Angeal or his commanding officer. "Well, that all sounds great, General. But you remember I have orders, too." _To watch you_. _Kinda hard to do that if we're hundreds of kilometers apart._

The trailer went _dead quiet_ , the chatter of half a dozen SOLDIERs on comms duty cutting off abruptly, the men and women freezing in place.

He knew this wasn't the best idea—pulling the lion's tail and kicking it, too. But, damnit, they wouldn't be in this situation if not for… Well, alright. Zack's hands curled at his sides. It wasn't like he could say how he'd react if _he'd_ been the one ordered to bag up a bunch of dead kids' bodies.

They'd have this conversation now or later. Now was the operative time if the General was going to change his mind.

Sephiroth turned his head only slightly, so that his wintry gaze met Zack's via the reflection in one of those displays. When the man actually _smiled_ , Zack felt all the blood drain from his face. "Genesis won't be replaced so easily, Zack. You can try if you want to, but you'd be wasting your time." The low cadence of those words carried an almost sexual purr.

 _Fuck._ It was almost worse than being yelled at for insubordination. Zack's face heated as Sephiroth played him off as some hotshot, lower ranking officer who thought he was entitled to get some. Obviously, the General was well aware of the tawdry rumors going around about himself and Genesis. _Goddamnit. Angeal, you didn't warn me he was going to be difficult._

The General's face smoothed, his eyes narrowing coldly in the reflection.

Zack folded his arms, getting the message. Sephiroth had no intention of making allowances for him to fulfill what Angeal had asked him to do. If he wanted to press the issue, he could, but it wouldn't be pretty. At the same time, though, Zack somehow got the impression Sephiroth was telling him he didn't have to be concerned. He didn't know what to think. But the General had deflected his insubordinate remarks, when the man could've just as easily thrown him out, had him court martialed. _So you're not just trying to get rid of me._ Zack's lips thinned into a line; he looked away.

The General straightened and the frigid mood cast over the room gradually began to thaw.

"…Sir?" One of the comm techs cleared her throat lightly. "As requested, I finished transferring your data to the new unit." She held up a shiny, brand new phone.

Resentment tensed the muscles in Zack's back and shoulders, climbing up his spine. It was one thing to be cut down a peg or two on the job. But this relationship Sephiroth had with Aerith, whatever the hell it was, was really getting on his nerves. Zack was used to being the _object_ of jealousy, not the one who was jealous. It probably wouldn't be so bad if he and Aerith were sleeping together, but as things stood, knowing that the last time he'd seen her in person she'd just climbed out of Sephiroth's bed—even if nothing had happened as she'd claimed… It was pretty damned emasculating.

"Thank you." Sephiroth took the phone from the tech, infuriatingly calm and oblivious as always. The General flipped the phone open, checked a few things, and then slipped the device into his pocket. He turned back to the maps and displays. "Anything else, Zack? If not, I believe you're busy."

Zack's jaw tightened. "No, sir." He saluted crisply, spun on heel, and marched out into the rain.

-x-

Cloud drove the transport at the head of the column. Zack sat beside him in the air-conditioned cab, mostly staring forward at the wipers rhythmically arcing across the windshield, clearing mud and sheets of rain from the glass. The damp smell was pervasive. The armored transport bucked and bounced along the uneven terrain, throwing Zack against the shoulder straps of his harness whenever they caught a little air. He grunted as he dropped back into his seat after a particularly hard jolt.

"Sorry, sir," Cloud said, glancing over at him.

"It's fine." Zack waved him off. "Your motion sickness isn't bothering you today?"

Cloud shook his head, the red lights on his helmet flashing across the windshield. "Not when I'm driving. It helps if I have something to do. Something to concentrate on. Plus—" He gestured at the environmental controls. "We can keep it cold in here."

Zack nodded. He leaned back as much as the seat allowed, resting his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out, and sighed. "Private, you got any siblings?"

"Little sister," Cloud said. "She's, ah, fourteen now, I guess."

"You ever climb in bed with her? You know, just to cuddle?"

The private flinched back against his seat, the vehicle taking a good double-bounce as they launched off a ridge and reclaimed the ground. " _Gaia_ , _no_."

"I know, right?" Zack used one hand to brush shards of slowly drying hair back from his face. "No one does that."

Cloud frowned, glancing between him and the road. "I didn't think you had any siblings, sir."

"I don't." Zack grabbed the handle on the ceiling as the vehicle rocked beneath them. "Only child. My dad said making sure I was an only child was the best decision he and mom ever made."

"Uhh…"

"My girl." Zack sighed again, staring through the windshield and imagining Aerith's smiling face framed by those soft chestnut waves of hair. "Things were going so great except that her mom died. That sucked and this isn't about that. But after that happened, she randomly got reunited with her brother who she apparently hadn't seen in like a decade—but they're not actually related—and she hopped in bed with him like it was the most normal thing in the world. She _claims_ nothing happened and I kind of believe her, not because of what she said but because he seems, I don't know, asexual or something. But it's still weird. And now they're texting like all the time. Basically I'm totally getting screwed here." He finally stopped to breathe, his words fading into the silence between them. When Cloud didn't say anything, Zack glared at him. " _Damnit_ , man. I'm dying over here. Say _something_."

"Zack." Cloud shook his head. "For real, I caught like five percent of what you said. How many cups of coffee did you drink this morning?"

"Dick," Zack muttered and Cloud smiled a little.

"Look, you either trust her or you don't. She either loves you or she doesn't." Cloud shrugged. "If she's into him, you can't compete with that. …You might just have to let it go."

Zack exhaled. "Well you're just pissing rainbows over there, aren't you?"

Cloud glanced at him. "You asked… All I'm saying is, childhood stuff like that? It doesn't go away. It just, I don't know, festers or something."

Suspicious, Zack peered at his friend. "You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"What? _No_. I'm just, you know, hypothetically—"

"Bullshit." Zack grinned. "You got a crush on some girl you knew growing up. Back in…" He snapped his fingers a couple of times as he tried to recall— "Nibelheim."

The visible portion of Cloud's face reddened in the shadow of his helmet.

Zack's grin broadened. "What's her name?"

Cloud's head dipped forward. Even the back of his neck was flushed. "Wow, we are not talking about this."

Zack laughed. "You and me, man. Next time we're off duty, a few beers and you're gonna tell me _everything_."

Cloud sighed.

-x-

They caught up with Sephiroth's forces by nightfall, setting up camp for the evening on a bit of high ground, surrounded by thick underbrush, with only the barest necessities unpacked. Come first light, they'd be traveling again. (Not that night and day looked that much different beneath the storm.) At least the rain had let up for the time being.

Zack tore off a corner of his rations packet and started sucking it down as he wandered among the SOLDIERs, looking for Sephiroth. As long as they were traveling together, he could at least _try_ to keep his promise to Angeal.

A dark-suited figure stopped him. "SOLDIER Fair, a word please," Tseng said.

Zack eyed the Turk warily, but followed out of the earshot of the rest of his men. "What do _you_ need?"

Tseng didn't bat an eye at his tone. "SOLDIER Fair, you and the General were the last to have seen SOLDIERs Rhapsodos and Hewley. What do you know about their whereabouts?"

Zack swallowed another mouthful of cardboard-ish pulp and brushed the side of his mouth with his knuckles. "Genesis was med-evac'ed for an overdose. Weren't they headed back to Midgar?"

Tseng's lips pursed slightly. "The transport never arrived. Contact with the rotorcraft was lost after refuel at the Java-Midway Atoll. It never met the rendezvous for crossing. No debris has thus far been found."

He shrugged. "Well, the ocean's pretty big."

The Turk's eyes darkened. "Has anyone ever told you you're a horrible liar, SOLDIER Fair? If indeed your mentor's craft crashed, a slight bit of concern on your part would be warranted. You're not an emotionless robot like the General."

Zack lowered his ration packet, allowing his gaze to cool. "Tseng. If we're fighting a legit war, why is it we're running out of child-sized body bags?"

Tseng's response was immediate and calm. "When there aren't even enough remains to put a body back together, there's no point wasting a full-sized bag."

Zack fought a shudder. Yeah, it wouldn't do to get on the Turks' bad side. These guys would make you _disappear_.

Tseng's phone rang. He gave Zack a pointed look before he turned away to answer it.

Zack took the opportunity to leave, resuming his search.

At length, he found the General's tent on the edge of camp. Nodding to the guards, he ducked inside with his bag of gear.

"Did anyone ever teach you to ask before entering, Zack?" Sephiroth was sitting shirtless on his bedroll, the lantern dim at his side, his face and shards of silver hair illuminated by the soft light of the cell phone that had his attention.

"I always saw Genesis just—"

"Yes, and we've established you're not him, haven't we?"

Zack dropped his bag from his shoulder onto the wooden platform. "You know, if the rumors were true, I'd feel a little better."

Sephiroth arched one brow, not looking away from his phone. "Sorry."

He sighed and started unpacking, first kicking off his boots and then unrolling his bedroll on the vacant side of the tent. The lantern and Sephiroth's luggage sat between them. "The Turks are wandering around, huh?"

"I heard. Be careful, Zack. ShinRa has ways of adjusting and redeploying SOLDIERs who start asking questions."

Zack paused, a shiver running down his spine. No wonder Genesis had insisted… Unstrapping his sword and laying it aside, he sat down on the pile of blankets. "Has there been any—"

His words were cut off by Sephiroth's hand covering his mouth. He only had time to blink before he was falling backwards, crashing down onto his bedroll with the General leaning over him. Shock left him cold, immobile. Sephiroth's face was close, his eyes holding Zack's and then flicking pointedly towards the edge of the tent.

Zack got the hint. He met the General's gaze and nodded as best he could.

Sephiroth studied him for a moment longer, then released him and moved away. Zack sat up slowly, brushing hair out of his eyes. _Gaia._ He swallowed, gathering himself. _So this is how the rumors start…_

The General went back to dicking around on his phone.

Zack pulled his own phone out of his pocket—a black number similar to the one Sephiroth had, but not the _executive_ model—and flicked it open. A picture of Aerith greeted him from his wallpaper—the most recent pic she'd sent him. It was a selfie she'd taken in her new nurse's assistant uniform, a collared white smock with a pale pink apron. He couldn't tell if the outfit had a skirt or pants with it. She was beaming proudly in the picture, smiling and looking happier than she had in months—since before her mom died—though the circles under her eyes were getting darker.

 _Aerith_. He clicked on his message app, in case she'd sent him a note— "Ah, crap." He had zero bars. Aside from containing his pictures and previous messages, the thing was a glorified electronic paperweight out here. Zack closed the phone, glaring aside at Sephiroth's satellite-connected model. He would've thought Director Lazard would want all of the Firsts connected to the grid at all times, but maybe that was just Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal. Maybe _he_ was the only special one (i.e. peon).

Zack flopped back on his bedroll, sighing and dropping the phone on his chest.

"She says you're not answering her texts," Sephiroth said.

 _Wow, rub it in._ "I don't have service."

"Ah. That would do it. I'll let her know."

Zack closed his eyes, listening to the quiet beeps of Sephiroth tapping buttons on his phone. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not be cool with the two of you being all buddy-buddy like this?"

"Of course it did. Immediately," Sephiroth said. "As I tried to tell her before she fell asleep on me that night."

 _Thanks, I needed_ that _mental picture, you giant alpha-hotel._ Zack cleared his throat roughly, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. "And?"

There was a pause, even in the button tapping. "Aerith gets her way."

He exhaled raggedly. _That she does_. "You're sticking to your story that nothing happened?"

The soft beeps started up again. "Contrary to what you've heard, I do not 'get off' doing such things with my men sleeping less than fifty feet away."

Zack pressed his lips. "Are you gonna tell me you didn't have a single carnal thought all night while you were in bed with her?"

Sephiroth sighed. "That's not what you asked. I answered your question."

He gnawed on a chunk of his lower lip, reaching up and bracing his hands behind his head. "I'm asking this one now."

The phone snapped closed. "Natural, hormonal responses are to be expected in those sorts of situations. But that does not alleviate the person having them from the responsibility of controlling one's self, deciding whether to act upon them or not, and dealing with the consequences of that decision."

" _Gaia_." Zack slapped one hand against his forehead. "I don't need a dissertation, _Professor_. Just answer the question. Would you or not if she wanted to?"

"I can't believe we're actually discussing this." The General exhaled. "We're in the middle of a war, deployed in the field—"

Zack scrubbed his face with one hand. "That's a lot more words than 'yes' or 'no.'"

"Zack, I've never seriously thought about it. Do you really want me to start?"

"…No."

"Very well."

Zack curled on his side, his phone dropping to the blankets, facing the side of the tent with his back to the General. "What if I ask the same question about Genesis?"

"I would decline to answer on the grounds that it's none of your business."

He cocked a brow, turning his head to glance at Sephiroth.

The General was staring off into nothing with a cold look on his face, one elbow resting on one propped-up, leather-clad knee.

"But you just—"

Sephiroth fixed him with a frigid glare. "The only reason we're talking about Aerith is due to the odd situation the three of us find ourselves in. And because, though you obviously consider me incapable of this, I do feel a measure of guilt that our interaction upsets you. But I haven't done anything wrong." He frowned, looking away. "I do not steal other people's lovers, Zack. I'm not like that." His gaze darkened as if there were some history there maybe, but no further explanation was forthcoming.

Zack curled up again. "…Sorry." He sighed, hugging himself with his arms. "I'm just…" _Jealous_ , the word echoed in his head. "She had this whole life with you that I know nothing about."

"There wasn't anything pleasant about growing up the way we did. But I will not talk about that. She can tell you if she wants to."

He blinked, staring at the tent fabric that shivered with a brush of wind. "Does it have to do with what Genesis said? About the three of you being different than the rest of us SOLDIERs?"

The lantern clicked off, engulfing them in darkness. Zack heard shifting about in the blankets as Sephiroth settled into his bedroll. The General didn't answer his inquiry. _Guess that's none of my business either_. Zack sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

He woke up on time the next morning, early enough that Sephiroth was still there. While the General was getting dressed, Zack sat on his bedroll, scrolling through this morning's dossier on his data pad. _SOLDIERs Hewley and Rhapsodos AWOL_ was splashed across the page in one section; the associated paragraph of text described the manhunt to be launched and requested information from anyone who knew anything. _Damnit, Angeal, you better be OK._ Doing the math in his head, they could've reached Midgar by now…

Zack pressed his lips and moved on to the next item. Sephiroth was right about there being a decent amount of information in here he needed to know—past satellite photos of Fort Tamblin and Sangba, an analysis written by ShinRa mako experts on the storm's manifestation and sustainment, enemy comms they'd intercepted, troop movements they knew about. But there were an equal number of reports from the Turks that he skimmed and flicked by. There was no way to tell how much of that information was just outright lies. To think he'd always just naïvely listened and assumed…

"Zack."

He glanced up from the data pad. Sephiroth was pulling on his black coat and fastening the straps of his armor. The General's mako-green eyes were cool when their gazes met, but lacked the antagonism of the night prior.

"Can we agree on one thing? That ending this war is best for both sides and all of us."

By 'us,' Zack knew what he meant. _You, me, Angeal, Genesis…and Aerith._ Zack lowered the data pad, straightening. "Yeah."

The General didn't quite smile, but his voice and eyes were the warm side of tepid. "Then let's go get it done."

 _And go home._ Zack grinned and leapt up—


End file.
